An Essay
There wasn’t a Saturday that passed, short of torrential downpours or road closures, that you couldn’t find me and my best friend at the Dog Beach. It was so much a weekly ritual that Tasha, my 110 pound ball of loving energy, began getting excited, each week, by Thursday evening.
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| Photo by PupandHorse.com |
Somehow she became so in-tune with the weekly routine that by the end of the week she was working herself into a tongue wagging, paw pouncing, head tilting, OMG she’s heading for the door so it must be time to go, frenzy.
She always did follow me everywhere around the house, always under foot, participating in even the most mundane chores – so as her energy began to build at the end of the week, any time I’d walk down the hall and past the door to the garage she’d be right there beside me; only she’d turn left, to the garage, when I’d turn right. I’ll never forget the look on her face as I’d say, without stopping, “you goofball, it’s not Saturday yet”.
There she’d be with her rear pressed up against the door, looking at me with those wonderfully big, brown, expressive eyes; head tilted just slightly to the left. She’d intently listen to my words and with each mention of her key words