Greyhounds on a Grey Day

Today I found a small blue thing at the dog park. Surprising, I know, considering a usual trip to the dog park results in the bagging of many small brown things.

This morning dawned grey and cold, a repeat of the last few days around here. Typical for a normal Maryland January but atypical of the southern temps we've experienced for the last two years. That global warming is a tricky minx; just when you think you have a handle on her, she blows some arctic air up your knickers and reminds you what a cold bitch she can be.

This weather has completely erased any willpower I possess. The most strenuous exercise I've performed in the last few days involved cutting copious amounts of shortening into flour to make biscuits. My stomach is in heaven; Linus and my thighs are in hell.

We have a huge yard so Linus was able to run around a bit, but he is used to at least four 3-5 mile hikes a week (translating to 10-15 off leash miles for him), and my refusal to leave the couch took him aback, to say the least.

Day One- Gazing out the window, Linus silently begs me to put down the fork.



Day Two- hope fading, Linus attempts a push up in a desperate attempt at exercise

 

Day Three- With his final bit of strength, Linus throws an ear across my keyboard,
hoping to gain my attention. I surf onward, accidentally spilling tea on his head.

Today a small spark of my former exercising self was lit within me, and I rose from my crumb filled bed. After heaving my legs into my largest pair of sweatpants (using two hands per leg), I threw a piano case around my shoulders for protection from the elements, and sailed forth to the dog park.

I know, I know a dog park means exercise for Linus, not me. But the fact that I put the chicken leg down and walked out of my house in sneakers instead of slippers was a huge step forward.

Needless to say, Linus was happier than a vampire at a blood drive.

He ran and barked and sniffed and humped, repeating this cycle over and over in a frenzy of joy.

And then...the girls arrived. A man entered the enclosed area leading not one, not two, not three, but FOUR of the most beautiful greyhounds I had ever seen.

The look on Linus's face was priceless. You know the music that plays every time Lauren Bacall or Rita Hayworth or Jessica Rabbit walks into a room? Linus had an endless loop of this playing in his tiny, tiny head.

To you these dogs may look like four legged crossing guards.
 To Linus? Sports Illustrated, swimsuit edition.

Linus approached the ladies, tail raised, butt available. Such a gentleman. One by one, the girls gracefully bent their heads, and in a manner I can only describe as delicate, sniffed the noxious fumes emanating from his hindquarters. Linus gratefully reciprocated, ecstatically shoving his nose wherever they allowed him to shove it. He was quite boorish, really. I guess the girls like it somewhat rough.

He really got them going, at one point joining in with other dogs to chase the greyhounds around the large enclosure.

This is the bit where my small blue thing moment happened.  As the dogs began to run, all of the adults in the park turned to watch. One greyhound in motion is a thing of beauty. Four greyhounds in motion stunned us into silence. With feet skimming the ground and bodies lunging forward, the dogs moved in silent rhythm, their syncopated movements perfectly timed.

The humans watched in awe. The other dogs, barking, fell quickly behind. The Ladies flew on, in single minded pursuit of an invisible rabbit, unaware of their unimaginable speed and unspeakable beauty as they completed their turn around the yard.

In those moments these animals defined Purpose, as they effortlessly acheived exactly what they were born to do.

What a lovely thing, to unquestionably possess the explanation of your existence.

I turned in a circle, half expecting to see a jet stream tracing the path they had run, but of course nothing trailed behind, save a few exhausted mutts and a dog named Linus.

Both Linus and I left the park happy and satiated, Linus with the scents of the Ladies filling his seriously compromised brain, and I with the unexpected pleasure of seeing Purpose fulfilled.

There are small, blue things everywhere. You just have to stand still long enough to see them.