Desperately Seeking Sun
Sometimes I think in a previous life, I was a cat. Or a plant.
In the middle of winter, on a cloudless day, I’ll stand in the sunniest spot in my yard and tilt my head to the sky so I can feel on my face whatever feeble warmth makes it through the cold air.
The other day, when temperatures were in the high forties, I lay down on my back on the deck — not on a chair or a bench, but directly on the deck floor — attempting to soak in the sun.
The deck was hard, cool, and covered with muddy dogprints, but my hat kept my head warmish and protected from the muck, and my coat offered a small amount of cushioning. The heat on my face felt luxurious.
I could hear a few birds singing early notes of spring, so I closed my eyes and gave in to the moment.
Suddenly, I was paw-pinned to deck — and cold dog noses and slurpy wet tongues invaded my reverie.
Lilah is looking concerned; Tucker is right behind her.
I opened my eyes to see three sets of worried furry faces staring at me.
“Mom’s down!”
Lying face up on the floor is not a typical Mom position, and the dogs were concerned. They huddled around, questioning me: “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine if you could get your nose out of my eyeball, Jasper.”
Jasper wants to make sure I’m ok.
“And if you could remove your paws from my coat so I could sit up, Tucker.”
Tucker standing on my coat and looking in my face.
“And thank you, Lilah, for ensuring my face is really clean.”
Slurp.
It reminded me of the time I tripped over my snowshoes and splat-landed in the snow several weeks ago. Within seconds, all three dogs were gathered around me. As my canine audience watched closely, I took a mental injury inventory (Legs? Working. Arms? Movable. Back? Wrenched but viable. Dignity? Trashed.)
View from under Tucker
It wasn’t until I started to move and told them I was okay that Jasper, Lilah and Tucker turned their attention to the dumped contents of the compost pail I had been carrying. At the time, I was quite honored that the dogs waited to see if I was alright before attempting to snarf down the apple peels, potato skins and moldy bread I had dropped.
Are you sure you’re okay?
Maybe my dogs aren’t they Lassie-type hero dogs who know how to run and get help.
Jasper keeps an eye on me.
But that day as I lay in the snow, and again when I was resting on the deck, I could feel the concern, love and caring pour over me from my dogs. And it was warmer than any sun.
In order to try and capture what it felt like, I lay back down on the deck took some pictures with my iPhone. The results are the photos you see in this post. Not all are in focus, but somehow I feel like those flaws help capture the emotion of the moment.
Do your pets know when you’re “down?” How do they help?
You may also like:
- Speechless in New Jersey: What laryngitis taught me about my relationship with my dogs and cats
- What Dogs and Cats Say
- Visual Purr
- How My Dog Lilah Shows Her Love
- A Touching Moment
- Photo: What I see in a dog’s eyes
- Photo: Power of love
- Photo: Love will find a way
The post What My Dogs Do When I’m Down appeared first on Life with Dogs and Cats.