Bruce Wayne

#projectlife365 #graceful

Two days after getting back from our honeymoon, the girls called me up front at work and said that we just took in a stray Italian Greyhound from the strike zone and they thought I would be interested.  The strike zone was the main area of the tornado damage that had gone straight through town less than two months prior.  We still weren't back to normal yet in the shelter or our day to day lives.  Curious, I had checked the lost reports and came up blank.  A little bummed, I put the book away and headed to the back.

It was all over before the door even closed behind me in the holding room.  This pathetic, convulsing, skinny dog stared up at me from the bottom kennel.  I say convulsing because this dog shakes on a good day when he's happy but he was terrified.  Putting the dates together, I assumed that he gotten himself picked up because fireworks had startled him and he couldn't find his way home.  Cursing the girls for telling me that this creature existed, I called my brand new husband and that was that.

For such a beautiful, graceful looking dog, he is the most awkward animal alive.  He doesn't particularly like to be touched unless he's doing the touching.  He can reaaaach up and scratch you across the face just to say hello.  He can jump from a standstill so you can make eye contact without bending your head.  He once, to my horror, jumped and dropped a lick on the face of a pregnant friend while landing his front feet on her belly as she was walking in our front door.  He pees on his front legs because he's so uncoordinated and his legs are ridiculously long.  He won't lick your hand but you better believe he'll lick the roof of your mouth if you yawn in his presence with your guard down.

He also, in a moment of my wondering what the hell I had gotten us into, looked up at me and then laid his head on my chest and closed his eyes.  Life is better with a dog.  Or three.