Posted by: aauntiem | May 26, 2010

Luna-cy

Luna beats me to the back sliding glass door most days. I don’t know how she knows. Its some sort of doggy instinct thingy that Americans lost by the time tv dinners and sitcoms became the norm.

I get the back door as she throws all her little body against the glass—nails tapping like an impatient cashier. I open the door and she charges the 10 x 12 patio. She runs to the screen door and bucks like horse—little weeny legs up, paw-paw at me, back down with a nail tap. Repeat.

She is so excited now that it makes hooking on her leash a chore. I say her name like a cuss.

I am a horrible pack leader. César would be disappointed.

Then, we are off. Once the leash is on and the door is open she is all prancy show-dog. She walks a leash just fine.

So, we mosey around the afternoon, taking our time to walk along the length of the back fence and down to the pond.

Suddenly, she jumps back like someone slapped her in the face with a smelly fish.

Then, like a boxer, she jab-jabs with her nose at the smell.

At this point, I always wonder what in the heck she smells. If it is so startling why does she put her nose back there?

Why is it when something stinks that we always say “Eww, smell that?”

Must we have others validate our disgust?

I do it to. I am ashamed. I have no excuse.

Luna doesn’t just go pew-ugh. She sniffs, jab-jab, again. And, I think maybe it is sexy? Maybe it is super sweet? Maybe it smells like lunch?

While I am pondering the nature or nature she does the damdest most surprising thing.

She rolls in it. She just gets in there, arching her back along the spot of the smell. She wiggles.  I cry out “L-U-N-A-A-A—N-O” in commercial slow motion. She ignores me.

Then, she gets up and does the shake all hound dogs do—shaking those floppy ears until the brain giggles.

And, she is off again, just like nothing happened.

She does this pretty often. And, I am surprised every  time.

And, every time I am dying to know if it is the same smell and what it smells like.

Is it the scent she knows in her soul—like a long lost lover? Or, like her totem spirit guide sending her the scent of destiny? Is it bacon?

These are the questions that keep me awake at night for the five seconds it takes me to fall asleep.

She did it yesterday. I’m all Meg Ryany in You’ve Got Mail except I have more snot and am less cute, but the cold makes me loopy and…and…

And… I got down to smell it.

It is true. It actually happened.

And, the cold that gave me the courage to do what I have thought of so often also incapacitated me.

I smelled, I smelled, I smelled…NOTHING! No animal spirit guide. No long lost lover. No bacon. Just a faint hint of dirt, grass, and sunset smell.

The loss and sheer disappointment was too much.

I did the only thing left to do.

I called my mommy to come bring me soup and rub my hair (ok, I really just wanted my mom).

AuntieM

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