A Boy & His Dog
There really is something to be said about a boy and his dog. Joe and Langley have essentially grown up together, Joe being only five years old when we picked out Langley from the breeder's (but to be truthful, it was really Langley who picked us out, crawling all over us and grunting her requests to adopt us). I'll sometimes look over and see Joe reaching down and absentmindedly scratch her behind her ears as he's playing on the computer or watching tv. She adores him right back, sleeping across from his room in the mornings till he wakes up and following him around the house in the late afternoon when he gets home from school.
Although the latter might just be because she's hungry and wants him to feed her.
Friday, Joe didn't have school due to a teacher's inservice day, so the two of us loaded Langley up in the back of my Jeep and drove to a near by golf course that has been abandoned for the last several years. Towards the bottom of the course, there is a big pond that local fisherman like to spend the late afternoons fishing. It's a very peaceful spot and in the late afternoon sun, it was just beautiful. We didn't have to tell Langley twice to jump in, which she did with a gigantic splash, sending the turtles head first into the water for cover. Joe threw her "Dockin Duck", a retrieval tool that hunters use to train their hunting dogs, over and over for a good 30 minutes, but she never grew tired, belly flopping back into the water, then swimming around looking for her toy (since we don't hunt, we keep her duck in a secret, secure place - - - a drawer in the mudroom out of reach of her sniffer of a nose). It was clear that she was ready to stay there all night, swimming. It made me think back to when the kids were small and it was time to leave our community pool. I always had to tell them that the pool would still be there the next day and that we could come back then to swim and play some more.
We finally managed to get Langley out of the pond, dried off and we headed for home, all the windows rolled down to drown out the smell of Wet Dog. But she was a very happy wet dog, riding in the back of my truck.
She slept really, really well that night (and I saw Joe slip her Milk Bone with her dinner).