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

verg′·ing
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




Monday, January 18, 2010

Come On In, Wilson.



This is my new friend.  Wilson.  Willy for short.  He's quite the fella and he's already figured things out around here.  He's what they call a "smaht dog" in these pahts of the country. Though I am just getting to know him, I can tell we are going to be quite a pair.  It's been awhile since I've taken on a new dog.  My schedule is full and I can't bear it when things don't work out, so I tend to be very cautious about taking on anyone new.  But I just couldn't resist Willy.  Funny thing--I wasn't looking for new dogs, but here he is.

One of the things I had to learn first was to stop trying to take his picture all the time.  I thought he was incredibly camera shy; every time I would whip out the phone*, he would quickly undo his very handsome and candid pose and go stand just out of sight.  Well darnitall, Willy! So I would have to follow him, my phone* jutted out ahead of me, determined to get a snap.  So he would move to another new out-of-sight spot.  So I would have to follow him again. So he would move....again. So I would follow him....again. He finally allowed me this profile view.  Well, ok--it's not that he allowed it.  It's that I waited him out.  But then I figured it out.  He's not shy.

He's modest.

There's a difference between the two.  Shyness--that tends to be me.  A bit fearful.  Like, "Uh-oh, people in vicinity.  Proceed with caution. Act busy and like you don't notice".  But modesty?  That's quite different.  That's Wilson.

Willy's the kind of dog who sits quietly and takes it in.  He doesn't need to be the first one there.  Or the loudest, or the funniest, or the cutest.  But that seems to make him all those things despite his intentions.  He's not afraid.   He has warmly greeted the throngs of incoming and outgoing daughters and their dates, but once the hellos have been said he has quickly retreated to a very tiny spot on the side of the couch and quietly listened.  We all noticed that about him and like it.

Last night, I allowed him upstairs.  He slept on my bed--but in the far-off corner.  Close enough to be close, but far enough to be just far enough.  That's humility. You can't fake that. That's when I knew for sure that he could come in and be here awhile.  He's not going to suck all the air out of the room.  I can make room for this guy.

Pinch me. A new dog, a new friend. I think it's going to work out just fine.

*Phone, camera, camera, phone....whatever you call it these days.

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