SHINY

Looking at Sunshine

    During this phase of Luna’s training I took her a lot of different places, partly to socialize her, and partly because I still needed to bond with her.  I was beginning to understand dogness, but I needed more training of my own.  

     We went to the grocery store, and I’d have her sit while people went in and out, and she could greet them as long as she didn’t leap.  Which she still tended to do.  Labs are an exuberantly social breed. But I’d tell everyone who passed that she was in training, and they could pet her only if she was sitting, and everyone seemed to understand.  Many people told me stories about training their own dogs, and the techniques they used.  Many people said it was smart to get her out at a young age and do this. It would, they said, have a good pay off over the years.  

      I also took her to my classes at UAlbany, and she learned how to pay attention to me in spite of many, many distractions.  She also got really good at not freaking out at the high pitched sound of female undergraduates squealing with delight.

    “Puppeeeeeeee!” was the resounding cry, as a group of them rushed us, and I heard from both young men and women about how long it had been since they’d seen a dog or a cat, and how much they missed them. College campuses can be isolated from the regular course of daily living, with limited age groups, limited environment. 

    “All we have are squirrels,” one student told me.  “We feed them, because, you know, you have to feed something.”

     I understand that some colleges bring in dogs at finals, just to help students destress. I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have them around more often.    

    I also took Luna to playgrounds, so she could learn how to behave around small, very young humans.  I didn’t know if she’d grow up to be as big as her father, but if she did, I wanted to make sure she knew enough not to jump on toddlers.  At one of those excursions, I learned something new about her.  

Luna is Shiny

   We were both sitting, me on a bench, her next to me, and for a while we just watched the children on the swings, on the merry go round and slide.  Then, a tiny mite of a girl came over tentatively and stood just out of reach, staring at me and then at Luna, who stood and started her tail wagging furiously. But she didn’t lunge or leap, and that was a good sign to me.  

    “Is that your doggie?”  the girl asked.

    “It is,” I said. “She’s just a puppy, really.” 

    She scuffled her feet in the dirt, keeping her distance while Luna grinned and wiggled. “What’s his name?”  she asked.

    “It’s a girl, and she’s named Luna.  Like the moon.”

    The little girl thought about this,  gave Luna a long look, then nodded.  “She’s shiny,”  she said, emphasizing the word. “Very shiny,”  she repeated.  Then, she skipped away.

    Luna heaved a puppy sigh and sat down.  The excitement was over.   I looked down at her, and realized that at six months, and maybe forty pounds, she was losing her soft puppy fur look. Now she was a slim and leggy young lab, her black fur like a coat of laquered enamel, the closest I’d ever get to having a panther.  She was indeed very shiny.  For the first time, I felt a burgeoning pride in her, and in my relationship with her.  I had a dog, and she was shiny.  Very shiny.

      On the way home, she sat in the front seat of the car, calm and alert, as she always did.  From the start she was a good car dog.  She didn’t jump around or try to drive.  Instead, she’d look straight ahead, occasionally snuffling at the crack in the window, and her entire being expressed both contentment and confidence, as if she was saying,  “I know how to ride in a car.  In fact, I’m very good at it.  And I’m very shiny.”   

    Occasionally I’d reach over and pet her.  She’d turn to me and wag her tail a little, but then turn back to watching the road, as if this was her job and she didn’t want to leave it for too long.  

   “Okay, girl,” I’d say. “You’re doing great.”  

    Though I’d approached these kinds of excursions as training exercises, merely a way of teaching her to be the kind of dog I wanted, I was beginning to enjoy the dog she actually was.

    At around this time I was driving somewhere without her, and Prairie Home Companion was on the radio. The guest musician talked about just getting a new puppy for her farm, then sang the song she’d written for him. “Look at you lying there,”  she sang,  “cockleburs in your hair, next to what’s left of my shoe.”

     I actually teared up, missing Luna.  And it hit me. Not only did I have a dog now, and not only was I learning to deal with it, I loved my dog.  My shiny, shiny dog.  I was engaged with both my head and my heart, and so what she’d told me the first time we met was true.  

     We belonged to each other now.   

They will be SHINY!

     You can learn more about my writing at wildreads.com.  And here's a shiny recipe, just in case you're hungry.

ROASTED MAPLE VEGGIES

About 5 carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal

About 3 good sized beets, peeled and sliced into wedges

Two fennel bulbs, fronds removed, and bulb cut into wedges

about a quarter cup of REALLY GOOD extra virgin olive oil

about a quarter cup of REALLY GOOD and very REAL maple syrup (We use the dark kind)

Salt and pepper, applied liberally

If you want, you can add other veggies - potatoes or parsnips are good - because you know the rule.  PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD!

Take all your ingredients and put them in a casserole dish.  Sprinkle them liberally with salt and pepper.  Pour in the maple syrup and oil and, using your hands (the cook’s best tools) toss the veggies around to distribute the rest evenly.

Put the casserole, covered, in an oven that’s preheated to 350 degrees, and cook for about 45 minutes.  Take the cover off and cook for about  15 minutes more.