White Dog sat next to me on my chair and whispered in my ear, "Looks like dad needs to amend his saying to tired dogs and DADS are good dogs!" It was nearing 7pm and not a creature was stirring, not even to suggest dinner.
As promised we HAD gone to the Park, on a simply gorgeous day of 70 degrees F with gentle breezes. For some reason the was hardly any one at our favorite hilly chase...except Daisy and Maple and their humans! "Great minds think alike," Quinn wagged (yes, Quinn had even joined us!). They, too, were enjoying family time and some exercise.
White Dog after her initial mad zoomie chase down the length of the Park came back to sit with Nuka and Quinn, both who were enjoying the ride and the fresh air but were not quite up to the idea of capering across the luxuriant green grass. YoYoMa and Puff walked and walked and walked...up and down the landscaping and finally completely around the perimeter of the Park. They rounded the last side, where the van was parked, at a brisk trot.
After a long drink, YAWD was ready to go again; this time with the slow strolling enjoying the sensations Oso. Oso tried to show the big boy how to slow down and focus on the intimate details; Yo tried to amp up his brother's stroll to at least a steady walk. Those of us watching laughed at the mental tug of war and compromising being done by the two as they actually had a pretty good time.
Finally, it was White Dog's turn for a too rare treat. She wiggled with excitement as Steve lifted the storage compartment lid in the van floor and rummaged around. She hopped over the seat to peer into the well with him, her tail telling the curious others that Steve was close. When he pulled out the ancient white gripper ball, WD barked in delight, which caused everyone to also yelp in enthusiastic joy.
White Dog is the only member of the WDA who actually plays fetch. YoYoMa is learning pretty well to "Bring It!" but he refuses to give up his "bring thing" and will only come and show it to you before turning away with his treasure. Puff will chase after anything thrown but takes it and runs to a hiding spot with it...sometimes for it never to be seen again.
This white ball, always kept in the car, dates back to WD's puppyhood, when she was an "only." Steve felt that after enduring her sister's copycat torment of the past few days that WD had earned some "just for me" time. And while the rest of us sat on the edge of the Park's green bowl, watching and enjoying the feel of green grass under paws and bellies, White Dog and Steve played.
He threw the ball as far as he could and she raced after it, skidding to a stop just long enough to grab it and swing around to run back...over and over in every direction; sometimes the throw was low and fast others were high and wide. White Dog is a beautiful runner. Her coat flows like silk under the natural athlete's long stride. She was totally in the moment of the game with Steve and she spared no energy in her dance. When they climbed back up to join us, both were panting and happy.
Our living room receives the late afternoon kiss of the sun's warmth. With the front door open, lying in the sun puddle was a gift of total "Sunday-ness." Add to that a piece or two of duck jerky and fur "dented" still with the marks of going out harnesses and you have the perfect making of sweet napping dreams.