Murphy (with Mr. Meow’s help) digging in the snow…
I got to thinking this morning what a funny dog Murphy has been when he started running all over the place like a wild maniac because he was so happy. (It was cold, something he loves, and he’d found a “treasure” on our walk to bring home, a stick, so he started his morning off right. That’s a lot to celebrate!)
All of my dogs have exhibited this wild abandon where they race here and there at top speed in wild-eyed glee. I don’t know what it’s technically called, but I know all my dog-owning friends have their own names for it: cracker doggin’, crazy dog mode, wild dog, getting the skitters, frisky critter romp, rocket dog, getting nuts, etc. (I go back and forth between rocket dog, skitters, and cracker doggin’.)
There are other things that are attributed to dogs, though, that not all of my dogs have ever done.
Not all of them have turned around three times (or more) before plopping down to sleep. (Murphy does, and Budly did, but that wasn’t one of Mackie’s things.)
Budly was my howler. He had the cutest way of forming his lips and tossing his head back to match tones with passing sirens.
Murphy could care less, but Budly and Mackie were both jealous and didn’t like people touching me. But they had different ways of displaying their dislike. Mackie would growl, and he’d bark a warning if he sensed harm. (Not that I was ever beaten, but when I was little I’d play rough with my dad. My dad discovered -again, inadvertently, not because he ever hit me-that if he feigned like he was going to punch my arm, Mackie would bark and come to stand in front of me.) Budly, on the other hand, didn’t like Wayne and I showing each other any kind of affection. We could not snuggle on the couch together, or kiss, because he’d come and squish himself between us. (Or maybe I misinterpreted it all those years and affection was fine as long as we didn’t leave him out!)
Budly and Mackie had no interest in digging or burying bones, but Murphy? He’s been my digger and bone-stasher. (And he doesn’t always dig to bury bones or recover them. Sometimes he just likes to dig.)
Murph’s also terrified of thunderstorms and he hates (and I mean hates) baths. (He’ll run away and hide and then fight and thrash and fuss when we catch him. We literally can not give the dog a bath. I have, however, found that he’ll let me give him a “sponge bath.” I can pour water on him as long as it’s not coming from a hose or a faucet, but I also need to immediately wipe it off.)
Mackie and Budly never even noticed the weather and both tolerated baths. (Budly even had a cute way of lifting one side of his upper lip, as if to say, “Oh, all right, if we must.” Then he’d lift up his front left leg to signal he was ready to be picked up.)
They’ve all had their endearing quirks that are common to the dog species, but none have ever displayed them all in one dog. Which is kind of good, because what a crazy pooch that’d be! (Which means I’ve probably just jinxed myself and the next dog we get will be a neurotic, cracker doggin’, jealous, digging, afraid of baths and storms, nut! But I’ll love him—or her—despite all the quirks.)
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