verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Tucker: Dog BFF

You may think that dog BFF stands for Best Friends Forever. Wrong. It stands for Dog Boyfriend Forever. Since the day I lay eyes on him--no--since the day he first got in my car and exploded a small can of Static Guard that he found not-so-safely hidden under the seat, I have had a mad crush on this fella. After the initial jolt of our first 10 minutes and a call to the canine poison control hot line, I could see that hanging out with Tucker was going to be something like bungee jumping.

In the time that we have been sharing walks, Tucker has mellowed and now gets my attention by being very handsome, suave, and very chill. He seemed to get on Obama's Change bandwagon and has focused on style, delivery, and being very cool. If Tucker had an ipod, his playlist would be all reggae. He would have dreads. He would just close his eyes and jam.

When we walk his favorite walk down Main Street to Mayfield to see the horses, he takes the first half so seriously. He's Mr. Business. Puts on a good show for the commuters. "I'm such a good dog, as you can all plainly see...". At Mayfield, we check out the self-service honey, candle, and egg stand and sit on the bench to watch the breeze flirt with fields on Gibbet Hill. The town center is so beautiful that it commands this pause. But he sits ON the bench. Right beside me. Shoulder to shoulder. None of this dog on the ground stuff for him. When I point us towards home, he grins, his eyes twinkle, he wags his tail, and then does something like the tarantella, spinning, twirling, laughing, and teasing me into dancing with him. I always succumb. How could I do otherwise? The horses are used to our antics. They let us be.

But Tucker keeps me laughing. He also comforts me. He's Yoda on a skateboard. He looks right at me and reads me as much as I read him. I adore him. He's the ultimate in kindness. And today he was in top form. Today he got in the car for an early morning walk and even though I put him in the back seat, he met me in the front, shotgun. I normally don't allow that. He's a dog, after all. But this is Tucker, and this dog-boyfriend of mine knew that for today, we were throwing out all the rules and our old ideas.

"Carry on", he whispered.

May the force be with you and may it be jammin'.

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