This quality of love, in the form of a goofy faced little mutt named Annie, brought happiness to many.
There she was with a terrier face, long eyebrows and ear hair, quite the underbite, and a shaved little greyhound body and stilts for legs.
When we met, she started racing around the yard, dodging obstacles like a pro on an agility course. I was tickled at how much fun she was having. She clearly needed space to move, and my yard had it.
I agreed to keep her, hoping it was not a crazy mistake. Annie, it turned out, was scared of everybody, except me. Like so many other rescue dogs, her trust in humans had to be restored. I figured a bed and breakfast where all the guests miss their own pets would make a good home with lots of loving attention. I instructed guests to turn their hands up when wanting to pet her, to be slow and get a bit closer to her level. In time, she allowed others close to her. When responding with trust to someone, she would turn sideways to their legs and give a slight lean in their direction.
She often hid between my legs and became my shadow. If she could not physically follow me, her eyes did, she never let me out of her sight. I would see her stand on two legs, turning circles with her nose in the air trying to catch my scent.
Because she was a runner, going for hikes and adventures was her favorite. When my friends arrived, she would start talking to me while doing an excited sideways shuffle...."look who's, here, look who's here!!......let's go, hurry up, there are trails and beaches out there, I NEED TO RUN, , don't forget my ball...I'll wait in the car, come on, LET'S GO!!"
As her enthusiasm for adventure and interaction grew to a level that made my heart sing, I witnessed some touching relationships form. People loved her, she loved them. It was a circle of puro amor, simply love. She gracefully taught herself to contain the joy so her human friends could share it with her. She would sit, barely hovering, physically vibrating waiting until the right moment to unleash, then she would start the wiggle so her whole body wagged, not just her tail.
Annie was the gate keeper, the front line, nobody could sneak by Annie, nor would they want to. She would show off her favorite toy, prance around, and maybe try to engage a game of "You Can't Catch Me".
On her last day, Sunday, she jumped into my lap. With her long pointy legs, her snuggling was akin to snuggling with a fawn...cozy? ....not really, unique, yes. Sunday morning, she melted into to me, she leaned in with such trust, such calm stillness, I found myself thinking...".This is sweet, this is interesting, this is love." ..... pure and simple.
Her trust healed my heart, and I will miss her.