Oh, Happy Dog

Peg and I were shopping at Walgreens on North Pearl. We walked past a young man and his short-hair collie mix. The dog was on a leash. He saw us and was just looking friendly. I swear he smiled. A few minutes later we were alone paying for drugstore items and admiring the dog.

The young man (six-four and smiling) who owned the dog turned and we chatted while the person at the head of the line used up quite a bit of delay. We didn’t really care. We had a nice time with the dog owner and his friendly dog with a constant wag of his tail, the dog, not the man. He reminded me of my dog Pal, from when I was a youngster, six years old. I picked him out of a litter and he whimpered almost all of the way home when he wasn’t being held and patted.

The dog in the drugstore was just being happy and we were just happy to see him and pat him and listen to our questions from the owner and just spend the summer afternoon relaxing and sharing. I think all three of us enjoyed dreaming and sharing the time and talking. The owner of the dog even paid for our small purchase. It’s not often you meet a stranger and just chat, pat the dog, and relax. This is life as it should be. Back home I remembered my hours and days with my dog Pal. We used to wander the hillside and the tall grass and the paths around the filbert trees . . . sometimes running and sometimes just staring across Nalley Valley side by side and enjoying the company. I fell asleep dreaming. I hope our friend did, too. I would bet the dog slept and smiled, also.