Two Dog Night

Twilight, cold, and the dogs needed to play. Howard long ago learned he cannot keep pace with Grace, so he wisely stands at the alert as she speeds around the yard. If she comes within a reasonable distance, he will dart out at her, hoping he can at least touch her. She is fast.

The joy of running; She literally bursts with it as she races the yard. Howard is a living, breathing cartoon, which tends to overshadow the greyhound, but he is almost invisible when Grace runs. Of the greyhounds I have had, this is the fastest and she is the one who exalts in the  race. Odd, as she is from show lines and the others were racers. I wish I could bottle what she has when she is at speed. She enters complete, total happiness. And it is the one time the little stub is left without a plan.

This old gal has decided that anything soft is meant for her laying pleasure. She believes with advanced age comes privilege. This is what greeted the dogs and me when we came in from their play. I had dropped some things on the kitchen table that I intended to put in a bag for giving away. Nothing like a cat in repose on the table. I am not one who allows the cat on the counters and such. But the old lady has decided she will take her pleasure wherever she finds it. Perhaps it is a lesson I should heed myself.

I could learn something from all three of them. Accepting my limitations and exercising patience whilst I wait for an opportunity, as is Howard's way. Rejoicing in what I do well and expressing the happiness it gives me, ala Grace. And doing what I damned well please and offering up no apology, as my wise old Margaret so gracefully does.

Now if I could also sleep away half of the day, as do they, I might be onto something.