the spark

While I was back in Ohio for the family reunion, I took a walk around Findlay. As I was enjoying the old houses and decades of memory, I saw a little spaniel running towards me. Well, kind of loping, kind of tumbling. He was so clumsy that I thought he was a puppy. He was on the other side of the street, and he was ignoring his owner’s commands in an attempt to get to me. He was obvious friendly, and obviously on a mission, so I crossed the street to him.

The owner was apologizing for him, saying he was so old he hardly knew where he was going these days, but all he wanted was to snuffle me, then he was happy.

It may have just been an old dog, but it seems more like I’m getting the spark—the dog spark. It’s not a huge fire, like the famous dog trainers have, where they can calm any dog and understand them immediately. But the mix of taking care of Oz when she was sick, the long walks, the many play visits, and the humane society have sort of marked me. Dogs want to greet me in ways they didn’t before.

Yesterday I stopped by the library. Someone had tied a big Lab /Lab mix outside the door, and she was just unwrapping the leash from the hand rail when I was going by to enter the library. She got the leash free from the rail—and her dog surged forward to jam his nose into my hands. It wasn’t for long, just a quick “I know, hi guy, how you doing,” but he caught her completely off guard. She was apologizing, but it was done and over. I watched. He didn’t do that with the other folks leaving the library.

Now, it may be something really basic, like the fact that since I’ve always recently been near a dog, I smell like dogs, or that since I carry treats in my pockets often, they might smell like treats. But it seems more like they’re reading me. It’s small, but nice.