Tonight as I opened the front door when I got home from work, my dog was waiting at the top steps. She lifted her head and wagged her tail as I greeted her, just anticipating the scratch between the ears she knew she'd get. Gracie is approximately 10 years old (you can do the Dog year conversion if you choose...I don't really believe in that)--but her actual age is somewhat of a mystery to our entire family. No one can quite remember when we got her, let alone how old she was when we did (she's a pound puppy).
In her younger years Gracie was a playful little thing. She would scamper around the house weaving in and out of table legs and under coffee tables, pausing at the sliding glass door in the back to survey and assess the ongoings of the backyard and gardens before trotting to the front living room windows to do the same. Come the snowy months she loved going outside and leaping through the snow when it was chest high on her.
Now a days she's quite lazy, spoiled, and far less active. During the winter months she typically lays around most of the day. She has a couple preferential locations for sprawling, atop the foot of my parents' bed, and the top steps of both our front and back door. Translation: Gaurd Dog! In the right habitat (which is 95% of the time) Gracie is about as carefree as you can get. The other 5% she deems to "maintaining her territory"...pacing the fence line to her yard, and "protecting" family members when encountering other doggies or people on walks. She lives the "Good Life" getting treats from my mom as she pleases, constantly perfecting her "look at my big brown eyes mommy" look. As a result from her spoiling, she will follow my mom EVERYWHERE in the house now, ignoring commands anyone else gives her--it's almost disgusting. On sunny days she'll migrate from sunny spot to sunny spot throughout the day. She still likes walks in the spring, and especially laying around in her yard during the fall months chasing leaves and getting in 2 or 3 excellent doggy dreams in an afternoon.
Anyways. As I approached the top step her wagging intensified, as I reached down to scratch her between the ears she bolted down the steps between my legs! The mail and car keys in my right hand went flying into the air, my bag slid off my left shoulder and proceeded to crash down the half flight of stairs like a slinky hitting every single possible step---my poor lap top and new Christmas books inside--and I ended up in a heap where she had just been...my coat now covered in her hair (she sheds year round).
Gracie never even looked back to admire her wake of desctruction, envelopes and my magazine subscriptions strewn about. Nope. She was far too busy chowing down on the treat my mom had pulled from her coat pocket.
And then I realized one of my wildest fears was real. My mom brings doggy treats to work with her.
