It is difficult to share the peace I feel when sitting on the back stoop of my screen porch this morning. With the door propped open and my feet resting on the concrete step below, I am overwhelmed with many happy thoughts, but the result of all of them is the persistent sense of peace.To my right is Boston, our Corgidor (fancy word for mutt). We rescued her from a shelter last year around this time. She has fit into our family with ease - knowing her place is primarily with the kids but if they aren't around, she'll settle for Sam or myself. She knows us all by name and even seems to adjust to whomever she may be leaning on at the moment. (She's a 'lean'er)
When she is with me, she is calm and solemn and almost introspective. Occasionally she will nudge her wet nose under my hand and bounce it in the air as a dolphin would to a ball. I'll open my arms to her and she will come in for the holy grail of dog-dom: the belly scratch. Afterwards, she'll lie on my feet in the afterglow of bliss; quiet and satisfied.
Almost immediately upon entering Sam's presence she'll hunker down on her front legs, back legs straight in the air and tail flipping from side to side - the invitation of play. In case her not-so-subtle call to battle isn't noticed, she'll add a low growl until she gets his attention. It's usually at that point when Sam will leap forward and they engage in what ultimately becomes a blur of blond fur and black basketball shorts.
With Drew she is quiet, like she is with me. He seems to appreciate the same things I do - and she senses it. When he is curled up on the floor, quietly playing legos or watching "Deadliest Catch", she will circle her body around him and settle onto the floor at his side. He will lean on her and they will stay like that until the next meal - if it so happened.
Walking around the corner to find her with Liv, typically results in a photo-op. Boston will be sniffing at her barbies while Liv infuses their plastic lives with spirit and personality. Sometimes Boston will be just outside of the bathtub after Liv has decided to take in impromptu bath, in her bikini and with the entire contents of her Polly Pocket suitcase. The toys bob upside down in the restless water while Boston looks on with concern, witnessing the drowning massacre of several naked miniature bodies. Once I found Liv outside and she had turned all her attention to Boston: our beloved mutt-corgi-lab was dressed, head-to-toe in Hawaiian clothing. Complete with paper sandals Olivia had designed and created out of pink construction paper. Boston sat in complete compliance, giddy that she was now the barbie.
Whenever I am struck with peaceful moments like on this morning - alone while the rest of the house sleeps - she is here with me. I love what she had brought to our family and who she is for each of us. I am moved that she loves us so much, as to recognize our own personalities and to adjust to each of us. I often wonder though: who is she when she is alone?
The photo above was taken on one of many occasions when Boston is outside on her own and she was unaware of anyone watching. It reflects a quiet intellectual. A stoic protector of the home. A confidante and care-taker. A playmate. She is all of these things and so much more - but in her mind, we all know, she is just one of the pack.
