The other day, as I got comfortable on
the sofa, Emerson, our 2 year old rescue beagle hound, jumped next to
me for a visit. He seemed lost in thought as he lay down for his
customary snuggle.
Caring for this latest addition to our
animal family was the beginning of another assignment from our
'living specialist' son. I've always been available for this misunderstood pup who'd
been returned twice before we got him, forever. Too much energy
on his part; too little patience, on theirs, I guess. Maybe some of us
need more because we give more. Makes sense to me.
As time passed Emerson seemed to fit
right in. He belonged here, he was telling me, even part time. He was
less anxious around food, now, knowing he'd receive his share
immediately, just as Mr. Wiggles and Sally would, too. When apple
slices, certain in season berries and cucumber time arrives, Emerson
is right there, down on all four paws, waiting to show me he knew
the rules of puppy etiquette. I was the one to deliver the goods, he
knew and trusted.
I'm sitting on the sofa when he jumps
up to greet me. In no time, he's become an appendage, leaning against
me then sliding down onto my lap, paws and snout in tandem. He's
looking around calmly as he begins to fall asleep. Is it his size
that makes him do this or had he simply fallen in love with me,
finally? At other times, Emerson simply jumps next to me, then leans
in as if to tell a secret he wants no one else to know. But I knew, he assumed.
He is a listener, a doer, a sweet boy,
through and through. It was time-out, a period to relax and meditate.
Exercise was done - for now. The Wiggler and his sister were napping.
It was Emerson's turn to follow. And so he did. He moves about, from
here to there, always testing this spot and that for that quiet place
to sleep.
Night time takes him to his cage, that 4-star hotel
room with 'black out' curtains, for the deepest of sleep possible.
His comfort is my concern. Gentleness is his right. The door is left
open. In the meantime, he sleeps near those he trusts. He may snuggle
with me. It's another safe place to be. He knows he's welcome,
here next to me, anytime. We talk, up close and cuddle. He needs this emotional touch
but so do I. We all do. Though some may deny its importance, its
significance can never be underestimated or overlooked. The power of touch. Life depends
upon it!
His high energy persona has tapped into
an emotional well - his and mine - catapulting him onto my lap again,
where he begins to explain, in great detail, why he ran and pulled on
Mr. Wiggle's neck instead of the malleable silicone soccer ball,
nearby. Reminders of suitable play are repeated, again and again,
outside, with a wooden rake, nearby, to make ground noise for getting
his attention. He stops.“Where's your ball', I ask? He runs to get
one, knowing repeat offenders are still loved here. While running
with Mr. Wiggles, things get out of hand. I clap again, call his
name, as he rules his rousing kingdom. I do it again then move
closer. He stops and looks upward, knowing he needs to listen. He
sits. Discipline is just a clap and 'carry' away. We move
indoors.
Emerson yearns for affection when in
the arms of another. His recent ear infection told a painful story.
He never complains. 'They' never do! His actions spoke volumes about
his condition as he hit the ground, in racing car motion, rubbing his
head to address the inescapable pain. He trusts us, knowing all would
be fine, soon. The standard is very high in the house of puppies.
Healing, running and jumping were immediately restored. I love him dearly.
He cherishes those moments on the sofa,
on my lap, behind my back and everywhere on the floor. In his bed, in
their beds or on grandpa's feet he naps.When playtime is done,
cuddles and snuggles are arm's length away with this little canine
gem with a heart of gold. Lucky for me his dad scrolled down one day
and found him, a reminder of Mr. Wiggles, waiting for us. 'Cause our world was waiting for him!
