Other than a little tip-tap of toenails on our solid-surface floors, Lilly often slides through life as my silent, attentive, loyal shadow. Our total connectivity has lessened since July through our “deference” work in her new behavior modification plan and thanks to her major anxiety meds. So, she spends large parts of most days no longer at my side, no longer needing my attention or constant contact, which is good, but also kind of sad. I think perhaps I’ve lost the ease of that much togetherness. Either that, or Ginko is a much more intrusive sidekick.
Maybe it’s the change of seasons. Maybe it’s that I’ve been gone a bit more recently. Maybe Ginko’s knees have been hurting more. And, a Ginko in pain is a clingy, clingy boy because several days last week, he stuck to me like glue.
It’s one thing to have a 35-pound border collie who is meticulously trained to move in synchronicity with me thanks to our agility training. We sail throughout the house, throughout the day, without incident. It’s another thing … entirely … to have 65 pounds of Ginko underfoot.
Is another 30 pounds really that much?
We bump into each other. He doesn’t move when I do, or he gets flustered and dances around — nearly taking my feet out from under me in the process.
Bless his heart.
Indeed, Lilly and I may never get to show the world our talents at moving together in a competitive agility setting. BUT, last week, after I tripped over Ginko for the 100th time … I marveled at how well Lilly reads me — day in, day out.
Surely, part of it is breed-related instinct, but I also get a sense of accomplishment from having taught her to read my body, my mood, my voice.
In the quiet of our rural home, where no one sees, we dance through our lives.
There is no peace like the kind that comes from a dog knowing you.
I couldn’t agree more with your last line.