Zoom away the Itches!

It was a rainy December afternoon and Finnegan was feeling itchy. She watched him rolling about on the carpet trying to scratch his back before she sat down on the floor next to him. She was holding something pink  in her hand.
"Hold still," she whispered.
He did, but the look in his eyes was wary. He hated being brushed. Inevitably his hair got pulled and it sent painful tingles along the sensitive nerves in his back and down his sore hips. But as she began running the pink rubbery brush up and down his back in gentle circles, he could not contain his squirms of delight. My goodness this felt so goooooooood!
"Ohmygodohmygoohmygod!" He whined happily. "What is that? Don't stop!"
She laughed. "It's called a Zoom Groom. Kong makes it. Isn't it wonderful? It's the best dog brush I have ever found! Look at all this fur it's picking up from just your back! I could knit an entire sweater with this! It's getting rid of your shedding and you won't feel so itchy when you try to sleep tonight."
She flicked large clumps of black fur into the wastebasket and then went back to her circular scrubbing. Finnegan's tongue kept flicking out as he wiggled in joy beneath her ministrations. His hip dysplasia usually made any type of grooming somewhat painful, but this brush was made of a pliant rubber and the prongs did not snag or pull in his thick coat. And they scratched his itches in all the right places! Oh happy Corgi day! He loved the Zoom Groom.
"I hope it rains all day, Human Woman, all day!"

Typing a Life into Existence.

Rebuilding a life when you are halfway through it takes time. But when one is racing against the countdown of Life's Clock, time is the one thing that seems to be in short supply.
Finnegan lay on his bed, nose resting atop his paws, and considered the sight of his human at her computer. She typed as if her life depended upon it. She typed as if trying to corral every good idea in the universe onto a single page of paper. It would be a list of viable ideas, that she could print off and carry about in her back pocket to pull out and review on days when the panic of losing all hope began to take over.
He wanted to tell her that she was doing an amazing job. But he knew she would not believe him. Not yet. He wanted to thank her for keeping his food dish full, his water dish sparkling clean, for walking him 3 times a day and giving him belly rubs. But he knew she would shush him and tell him that was love and love takes no effort. It's as innate as breathing.
This very human business of rebuilding a life from the scrap heap of her previous one would be the miracle to end all miracles once she had managed it. She had explained that it was now about "earning a living" by doing what she loved. It was also about the practicalities of keeping a roof over their heads and being able to feel safe on cold winter nights. And she said something else that made him pay attention. She said it was about rebuilding to a point where she could then give back to someone else. And to someone else's dog, too. That made him wag his stubby tail.
He wondered about a life that did not rely upon "earning a living", as she called it.  What would a life without money entail? Would it be difficult to live off the land like a wolf? He could drink river water and roll in smelly stuff all day long. He could run with a pack of friends. Together they could sit and soak up long, lazy rays of the sun on summer afternoons and howl at the full moon on winter nights. He could hunt wild rabbits; And eat them if they would stand still long enough to be pounced upon. Hmmm. But he would not have his big, plush bed with its fleecy blanket. And frosty mornings might not be pleasant with his bad hips and no Human Woman to fuss over him and make him comfy. And of course, there would be a serious lack of Pupperoni. He did not think that wolves got to eat Pupperoni or peanut butter biscuits or yam and eggs. And they certainly did not get hugs. Oh. He would miss hugs almost as much as little treats!
"Keep typing, Human Woman, keep typing. We need to buy some Pupperoni!" He whispered.
She did not turn, she did not speak, but the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. She continued typing their life into existence.

All I want for Christmas.

Dearest Santyclaws,

All I want for Christmas is bacon. I do not want bacon-flavored chew toys. I do not want bacon-scented snacks. I do not want bacon-scented sweaters. I do not want a bacon-scented plush bed. I do not want bacon look-a-like tofu dog biscuits.
I just want real bacon. A year's supply. Thank you.
And maybe rethink my offer to ride herd on those 8 tiny reindeer of yours during the rest of the year. I'm out of a job and they've got a bit of attitude. Especially the guy with the red nose. And, frankly, they're all getting kind of chubby. Let me chase them around the pasture for an hour! All that exercise will increase their flying times!
Could you ask the elves to get more creative with pet presents this year? The neighbor's cat has asked if catnip could be put in something more interesting than a felt mouse. Maybe a felt possum or rope chicken. Something that she could really get into batting around the kitchen floor. (Personally, I think she has anger issues.)
But let's get back to the bacon. That's very, very important, Santyclaws. Please don't forget the bacon. And bring some for my buddy Sammy, too. He hasn't been naughty at all this year. He hasn't even contemperlated (sp?) being naughty. I was only naughty that one time I tried to eat the UPS man but I didn't get him so that doesn't actually count, does it? (Mommy does not think it counts.)
I will believe in your forever and ever if you bring the bacon!

Your most adorablest and favoritest Corgi in the entire world,

Finnegan James.

Big ears hear even the smallest words.

They were sitting at the top of a hill, soaking up late autumn sunshine and the scent of pine on the breeze. Finn's large, tulip-shaped ears were flicked forward. He was listening intently to something down below and miles away. She leaned over and draped her arm about his chubby little self. He gave her a quick glance before turning his attention back to his particular fascination.

"What do you hear?" She whispered.

"Other dogs. You can hear them if you just pay attention."

She sat up straight and waited. Sure enough, on the next flush of chilly air she could hear a faint barking and then over to her left another series of barks. 

"Oh. They're talking to one another?"

"Of course. Did you think we dogs just randomly bark up and down the valley for no reason?"

"Well it never occurred to me that dogs, living so far apart, were actually conversing! That's wonderful! What are they saying?"

Finn huffed and turned to face her. Humans were so silly. She could understand him perfectly and yet it never crossed her mind that she could easily understand other dogs. Why? Because she loved only him? Did love make all humans so deaf? They only really heard the words of those they cared about most?

"One of them is saying he just had a great fence run. He scared the mail carrier. The other one congratulated him and is now talking about the new bone her owner gave her on Thanksgiving."

"Oh. That's it?"

Finn grinned as only a Corgi can. "You were expecting philosophy perhaps?"

She nudged him and they both laughed. But secretly, yes, she had hoped for some tiny bit of unexpected wisdom. She scratched him between his ears. He leaned into it and made a little gurgling noise of contentment. Hmm.That little bit of contact between skin and fur, that bit of canine warmth and human touch, made her realize that it wasn't always the content of the conversation that was important. Maybe it was the need to keep connections alive. Knowing that someone, next door or down the road, wants to acknowledge your presence in this big world, was comforting. Perhaps talking about the mundane bits of daily life could be just as important as those one-on-one conversations that delve far deeper.

Maybe listening with big ears wasn't always about what the other dog was saying. Maybe it was about letting the other dog know that she is being heard. 

The possibility of velvet leashes.

"Did you know that Henry VIII of England had velvet leashes for his dogs?"
"Yes, Finnegan. I did know that."
"Impressive. But did you know that mine was a beautiful emerald green?"
Slight pause. Surprised eyebrows. "Pardon?"
"Katherine picked it out for me. She said it went beautifully with my coloring."
"Katherine. As in Queen Katherine?"
"Well the scullery maid wasn't in charge of picking out colors for each dog's leash," Finnegan huffed. The very idea!
"Oh. Certainly. NOT the scullery maid who also happened to be called Katherine."
"Human Woman, you are laughing at me again. I am telling you the truth!"
"You somehow managed to swim in the first Olympics in Greece and then Zip! You were living in 16th-century England at the end of a velvet leash in Henry VIII's household. Um. I really need to check the ingredients on your bag of kibble."
"I'm telling the truth."
Oh, the finely pointed nose sticking in the air was tempting. She kissed it. Finnegan wiggled in happiness.
"Someday, Human, someday you'll see."
"I don't think it's possible for me to time-travel, Finn."
Astonishment popped his big coffee-dark eyes. She really believed that? How nonsensical! Why, he had big plans for his history-loving-writer-woman. BIG PLANS.
"You might, " He advised her, "Seriously reconsider your archaic belief system."
"Finn. You might seriously reconsider whether you want a walk."
"I'm just sayin'," He murmured as he trotted off to fetch his 21st-century plain black cotton leash.
Crazy Corgi, she thought, reaching for her sneakers. Such a dreamer. Her fingers paused between the loops of her laces. Since when had she ever thought dreaming was silly? Hmm. Since never. Funny, she hadn't had any memorable dreams of late. Maybe it was time to allow them back in. Maybe her belief system was a bit rusty. It couldn't hurt to play along with the Corgi. Maybe he really did have the ability to show her something as fabulous as an emerald velvet leash at the end of Henry VIII's big hand. That would certainly be something. Well, she told herself, it never hurts to stay open to possibility. Finnegan made a soft noise from the doorway. He was ready. There was no time left. They needed to be going.

This particular moment.

They were standing in the center of a bamboo forest. It was an overcast day. The light filtering from the wide open top was muted. It broke apart against the towering fat stalks, shading their bark from lime-yellow to  deeper grey-green. Beneath their feet the dead leaves had accumulated in a soft, whisper-dry carpet of beige. It was intense in here. So quiet. So still. She could hear her pulse. She sat, cross-legged, and Finn climbed into her lap and licked her chin. Nothing moved but the cool, river-scented air and Finn's big ears. Twitch, flicker, twitch. Always on guard that one.
It came to her that perhaps this was what it felt like to meditate successfully. To be in a place of such enclosed silence that the loudest sound would be your own heartbeat...or your thoughts. She closed her eyes and lifted her Finn damp chin and let the breeze waffle through her eyelashes and kiss her on the lips and cheeks. She shoved her scrambling, shouting thoughts out of her mind and shut the door behind them. They knocked. But she turned her back. The knocking grew muffled as the sound of bamboo leaves rustled into her ears, louder than her thoughts, louder than the breeze, louder than the dust motes falling pit-a-pit-a-pit onto the leafy floor. The weight of the warm Corgi anchored her. He was unusually un-restless. Her hand patted his long back.
"Do you like it?" Finn whispered.
"Very much, " She breathed.
"Thought you might. We can come back everyday."
"Good."
To have him pull her off the beaten track into this little sanctuary created by sun and wind and earth and seed was a blessing. It was always a wonder to her that when Man stayed out of it, Nature strode in and let loose her magnificence.
"How did you know this was here?" She asked.
"Oh. The butterflies were singing about it this morning when we were out picking the last of the blackberries."
"Of course. The butterflies." She smiled down at him.
"Do you know what I like best about this place, Human?"
"Tell me."
"This is the only time you and I will live in this particular moment. The only time. And it pulls you into it and holds you hard...and you actually stop and feel the entire moment. How often does that get to happen?"
She was perturbed. He was right. She rarely had time to stop and actually be in the moment of what was happening, as opposed to remembering it later. How startling the difference. She needed to keep this close. She needed to remember this. She needed to come back and sit among the bamboo with Finnegan until Being became second-nature.
"Is this what it's like to be a dog?" She whispered.
"Always. We don't waste a minute thinking about tomorrow. We're too busy feeling today."
So they sat awhile longer, enjoying the silence and the togetherness and the sounds of the bamboo forest growing all around them. And then it began to spill fat, chilly raindrops and they made a giggling dash for the car. But for the rest of the day she was suspended in a comfortable, happy bubble of Now. Finnegan, knowing he had accomplished yet another task on his list of Very Important Things, spent the afternoon engaging in some very serious in-the-moment napping.

Do what you do best.

Twilight. The sun had set in streaks of apricot. A cool breeze had come to life and was whispering among the meadow grasses and Black-Eyed Susans. Finnegan was walking his human, looking for the perfect spot to, well, you know, do his business. But as he trotted along an embankment where his favorite patch of Baby's Breath grew and the fuzzy Bumbles liked to roam for pollen, his ears pitched forward at a softer than soft sound. He stopped short. His human froze and whispered, "What is it?"
He gave her a smile over his shoulder before pointing his nose to the edge of the embankment.
"Look down there."
She  tiptoed forward and peeked over into the dark ravine where she could hear water rippling over stones below. And then she saw it. A blink. And then another. A fresh burst of cricket chorus rose into the air and suddenly the world was lit up with dozens of tiny green sparks; the way her hands swooshing through the waters of the Gulf of Mexico could stir up phosphorescence at night.
"Oh!"
"Yes. Marvelous aren't they?"
She looked down at him, and he was thrilled to see her eyes filled with wonder.
"Fireflies! Finnie, I haven't seen fireflies since I was a tiny person! I forgot how lovely it is to watch them."
"They want you to watch them. Didn't you know? The night is their stage. They keep hoping at least one human will stop and watch and understand."
"Understand what?"
"That this is what matters most. Allowing yourself to do what you do best. Stop chasing things that don't really matter. Just do what you do best. You don't see fireflies trying to be birds. Or butterflies. Or Peacocks. They're fireflies. It's simple. They do what they do best. And they create beauty for the rest of us to enjoy."
"We humans are pretty crazy, huh?"
"You don't need to tell me that. But you do make awfully swell snacks."
They watched the lights dancing and flickering, at one point she swore they did an impression of  The Wave. After a bit, Finnegan tugged on the leash. He really needed to go. So they ambled along to a place where prying fireflies could not see and point and giggle. He took care of his business. Then she took care of his business. And then they wandered home in a swirl of cricket song and bright lights and breezes. And she thought how right the little Corgi was. Do what you do best and you'll be more spectacular than when you try to do something that doesn't fit. Wanting to be a peacock doesn't make you a more impressive firefly.

Some goodbyes are good.

His human had been strangely quiet all day. At one point she had sat down on the floor and put her head atop her knees and made that soft crying noise he hated. He clambered up onto her shins and nudged his face into hers, licking that awful salty stuff off her face.
"Oh! Finnie! It's OK. Really! It's Ok!" She protested.
"You're leaking water! It's a disaster!We could all drown!"
"She burst out laughing and snuggled his anxious face between her hands and held it still. Her wet eyes were smiling into his.
"Finnie. I am crying because our home is no longer ours. And I'm sad and happy at the same time. I couldn't make it a home for us anymore so now, maybe someone else can make it a proper home. And you are here and we are safe. Who knows what will happen next?" She nuzzled his wet nose. "It's an ad-ven-ture." She whispered.
He wiggled his stubby tail and barked with relief. He LOVED adventures!
"Do we get to wear pith helmets and pants with lots of pockets for treats?" He asked.
"Absolutely."
"Well then. Let's get going!"
"Maybe we should just start with a walk and some Pupperoni? I'll look into the pith helmets tomorrow."
He smiled up at her. She looked better when her face was dry and smiling. What a relief!
"Human person," he said thoughtfully, "I just want you to know that you are my only home."
She bit her lower lip and then sat back down and gathered him into her lap in such a fierce hug he squeaked.
"Thank goodness for you!" She whispered into his big ears. "Thank goodness for the love of my little Olympian!"
"The love of your awesome, wondrous, amazing, stupendous Olympian!" He barked playfully, giving the side of her face a big wet one.
Magic. He would show her all of it! Then she wouldn't mind so much, not having that particular house anymore. With him leading the way she was going to have so much fun living in the world she would feel at home no matter where they journeyed together. She would learn what all Corgis were born knowing: the person you love is your home, not four walls, a soft bed and a food dish. Possessions are not a home. A home is where your heart resides. And when someone loves you unconditionally, your heart needs no other shelter.

Every splash of the way.

"I can swim circles around this Phelps character."
"Highly unlikely."
"I can dog paddle circles around him! I can! I can!"
"Again. Unlikely."
"You don't believe me?"
"Finnie, your're terrified of water. Remember the swimming pool incident of '06?"
His ears flattened. His glance went sideways. Oh. She would bring THAT up. "It was a momentary panic! You went underwater and I thought you were never coming back!"
"You were flailing. I had to rescue you. I still have the scratches to prove it. No. I think swimming is not your sport."
An outraged Corgi is an amusing sight to behold. Four stubby legs suddenly squared off, matched by that singular penetrating stare. She grinned.
He was incredulous. "I'll have you know that in the very first Olympics Corgis took the Gold in ALL swimming events. We can dog paddle like nobody's business."
"The very first Olympics did not have Corgis."
"Where's your proof, Woman?" He barked.
"Proof? Oh...wait...let me think about this one for a moment." She tapped her forehead and pursed her lips, feigning serious thought. Then she snapped her fingers and smiled, "Oh, yes! I read it on the internet!"
She left the room. Laughing. But he trotted after her, not to be outdone.
"You did not! I was there! I swam against the Muses. I beat them fair and square."
She bent down and traced the ski strip running from forehead to nose tip. She smiled. She smooched him between the ears where his red fur was softest. He melted. He laid down. He licked the tip of her nose.
"Ok. Ok. You're forgiven. Can we have treats now?" He asked.
"And what treats would my little Olympian like today?"
"I want one of those sammiches Michael Phelps eats...."
She plunked down onto the floor beside him and they both started laughing. They debated the merits of turkey on whole wheat or roast beef and provolone. They decided on bacon and turkey. She got up to go get her car keys, but turned a second later and looked down at him, her expression serious this time.
"Finnie?"
"What?"
"I believe you could out dog paddle Michael Phelps. And I would be there cheering you on, every splash of the way."
He smiled, "I love you too, Human."

C'mon! It's morning!

Clearly there was something unusual to the start of her day. It involved a 30lb Corgi sitting on top of her head. And a mouthful of wiggling, happy dog fur. She reached up with both hands, tugged once and he rolled down onto her chest. Before she could draw a proper breath she was being swabbed by a Gene Simmons-like tongue.
"Pffft! Finnie, stop!"
"But you need help waking up!' He insisted. 
"Blech! You need toothpaste!"
"I don't do toothpaste, I do chew bones. C'mon! C'mon! C'mon! It's MORNING!"
He scooted off and snuggled into her armpit. Still wiggling. She wondered how such a long dog could squeeze himself into such tiny spaces. 
 "Because one size fits all when there's love involved," He told her.
She grinned. Mind reader. He smiled back, panting. Time for breakfast. Time for leashing up. Time to go say good morning to wild rabbits and the cat next door who liked to kiss him on the nose. She sat up. Finnegan bounded onto the floor and scurried over to the door. "C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!"
Oh boy. Her little Olympian was full of piss and vinegar today. 

A little history lesson

"You know, " Finnegan announced during breakfast," Corgis are descended from the Greek god Hephaestus."
His human stopped stirring cream into her coffee, "Beg pardon?"
"Just thought you might be interested...with your love of history and all."
"He was the god of fire. What does that have to do with your breed?"
"Fire? Nothing at all. Do you want to know the story?"
She sighed and pushed the coffee mug aside. Clearly this was going somewhere.
"Should I be taking notes?"
"You're the writer. You might want to...it's pretty interesting stuff. Go get your notebook and pen, I can wait." He began licking himself, chubby hind leg pointing skyward like a gymnast.
"Such flexibility. Perhaps you are an Olympian," She quipped.
He paused, peeking at her from beneath his leg with one of those unfathomable expressions. She got the hint and went and fetched notebook and pen. Once she was settled back in her chair,  he plopped down his leg and began waddling back and forth across the living room carpet as any proper orator.
"Hephaestus was having trouble with his wife, Aphrodite. She was fooling around with Ares and Heph was jealous. So he was wandering about Lemnos one day feeling all sorry for himself and came across a very pretty maiden herding her beautiful white geese to market. So he did what any self-respecting male god would do...."
"He had his way with her?"
"Quite. And she conceived a child. When it was born it was a beautiful boy with rather large ears, like his daddy."
"Large ears."
"Yes. Hephaestus was known for his protuberant ears!"
"He was known for his lameness."
Finnegan sat. He stared. He waited. She could hear him thinking the word "smartass".
She grinned, "Go ahead."
"So the maiden blabbed about the baby's father to all her girlfriends who told all their girlfriends and a few goats. Poor goats. Humans were always confiding in them. The goats found it irritating. They just wanted to do goaty things like nibble grass and poop and make cheese. Stuff like that."
"Indeed.Goaty things," Her eyebrows lifted.
"But in those days no human could really keep a secret from the gods. One of the goats climbed up Mt. Olympus and gossiped. Aphrodite found out and flew into a rage vowing to smite the child on the rocks...or burn it in her husband's forge...or have Zeus turn it into a cactus or something like that."
"Do you have footnotes for any of this?"
"Don't interrupt. Hephaestus, hearing of Aphrodite's anger through the same godly gossip grapevine, hurried off and found the girl and her baby and immediately turned the child into a Corgi! So when Aphrodite showed up all hammers and tongs, there was nothing more than a very pretty girl and her dog herding a bunch of geese in a meadow. And that is how the Corgi became known as both a herding dog and a descendant of a Greek god."
"Wait. There's always more to these stories. Did Aphrodite do anything?"
"Oh. She turned the girl into a boulder."
"A boulder."
"Yes. But it's okay. The girl was a bit of a flibbertigibbet. No one is even certain if she noticed. Hephaestus brought the dog to live with him at his forge. He made beautiful golden collars for it and lavished it with attention. The other gods became so envious of the devotion the Corgi showed to Hephaestus that they all started creating dogs of their own. That's why we're known as Dogs. God backwards and all that. The proverbial joke on mankind. It's true. We are descended from the Olympians. Which is why I think you might start feeding me something a bit more...god-like. This kibble crap isn't fit for any living creature."
"Oh. I see. And I should be feeding you roast oxen? Grapes? Wine?"
"Roast oxen would be a fine start. But no grapes. I dislike grapes. Maybe a bit of melon though....wrapped in some prosciutto..."
"I see," She flipped the notebook shut. "Who taught you this history of the Corgi?"
"Oh. I read it on the internet."
He watched in disbelief as his human sauntered out of the room laughing.
"I mean it about the kibble!" He barked after her.

Changeable Moments

His Human slept, her closed eyelids peeking above the edge of tumbled comforter. He made his special noise. Small. Brief. Low. Only once. Two blue eyes opened. They smiled at him.
"Good morning, Finnie," She whispered.
Joy made him wiggle. He scooted closer to the side of the low bed. She flipped the comforter back.
"C'mon, boy. Up."
He needed no further encouragement. Up he bounced, then turned and settled down, curling his backside into her belly and tucking his head beneath her chin. She folded the bedding around him. He licked her hand, twice. Warm morning snuggles were the very bestest way to start his day! And oh, what a day he had planned for them!

She lay there, still half asleep, loving the weight and warmth of his small body pressed against her. His big tulip-shaped ears tickled her chin. Just a few minutes more and then she would get up and dress and take him for their morning jaunt. She smiled at the ceiling fan whirring above. Mornings used to be something she dreaded. Then Finnegan came into her life and showed her how early mornings could be as wondrous as evenings. 
Just yesterday as they walked along the edge of the woods, near a great thicket of blackberry bushes, a large black and yellow butterfly had suddenly fluttered down and landed upon Finn's head. He danced about, excited. His stubby tail wiggling. She laughed. The butterfly rode between his flickering ears for just a moment as if to say, "I have marvelous balance, don't I?" And then it lifted off and danced away on the fresh morning breeze. Finn continued to prance, all excited. 
"See? See how cool my friends are?" He asked. "They can fly!! Wait until you meet the others! You shall love every single one of them."
"We'll see about that," She murmured.
"Skeptic." He always had a smart ass response. "C'mon. Let's run!" He was calling it out over his shoulder, already sprinting, pulling her off balance so that she had to scramble to keep up. 
Moments later, his tongue lolling, his coffee dark eyes bright with laughter, he pulled up beside her and pounced as she collapsed into a panting, giggling heap on the dew damp grass. All thoughts of being grumpy about Monday were fizzled out in the joy of one another's company and humor. What a great way to start the day! Plus he could cover her with paw prints and she didn't care! 


The softness of the bed no longer held any charm. She rubbed his ears. Time to get up and get going. She couldn't wait to see what made her smile today. She wished she could bottle this feeling in mason jars and just hand one out to every person she met. They could open the jars, hold them up to their Monday morning faces, take a deep breath and suddenly feel the stress of the coming day whoosh away as Finnegan's laughter filled their lungs. To look at the world through a dog's laugh was a changeable moment. Something she had never known before. She hugged him once, fierce, and flipped back the comforter for the second time, bouncing up and across the room to the closet.
"Tennis shoes, again?" She called out behind her.
"Absolutely!!" He barked back. Once.
That was all it took. So much time spent in one another's company allowed them the comfort of a language that others never bothered to notice. But they two knew it by heart. No translator or trainer needed. It was the language of devotion. She tied the laces tight and straightened. His big eyes were liquid with intensity. He was ready to go get his sniffs! She grabbed the leash and they trotted out into a morning already astir with Robin's hunting for worms and bees humming about the Lilacs. Never before had mornings felt so pastoral. Never before had being awake early been a welcome experience without an aspirin in one hand and black coffee in the other to help her just get through it. Now, because of this boisterous little Corgi she felt like she had fallen into a children's storybook. What was the adventure of the day today? Could the birdsong be anymore gorgeous? The leaves on the trees any greener? And could there be a more glorious sun in the entire universe? She told herself to knock it off, that waxing poetic this early in the morning was just a bit...well...much.
But Finn, rambling along beside her, looked up and kept hold of her eyes. Then he smiled, and her heart melted. How could a she not wax poetic when this little dog loved her so much?


"Oh, just wait until she sees the bigger picture," He thought happily.
He was filled with magic. All she had to do was really wake up and he would show her all the wonders of the world. Because he was a Corgi. And Corgi's know stuff.