......is.....sock time. When our dogs see me putting on my socks it means apparently in the mind of the dog, big things, wonderful things, incredible things are about to happen. It could be a walk to the mailbox, a visit to the chickens, or maybe a romp around the pond. So getting my socks and shoes on creates a level of excitement that Norwegian curling fans must feel when their team takes to the ice. Titus is jumping on me, Zoe and Oz are biting each others ears, tails wagging, and tongues hanging. It's a great time to be a dog.
When I get out of bed in the morning, I get a similar greeting, although not as robust. After a prodigious amount of canine yoga, including the down dog and child's pose, the dogs will see me stir and come to the bed to sniff me or lick my arm to let me know they are up and ready to take on a new day. I have learned to get dressed in a hurry because I can't pull up a pair of underwear with a dog's head wedged between my knees.
Although I say it annoys me and I wind up getting dressed in the closet with the door shut, I secretly enjoy the attention.
When my kids were little, around two, four and six; we liked to keep them two years apart because it made the math so much easier, they would greet me at the door of my humble mobile home in the woods of New Hampshire after a hard day of work at the computer company.
They stood at the door pounding on the storm door and shouting in cadence. " Daddy, Daddy, Daddy". I felt like a rock star. No matter how bad the day was, it always put a smile on my face.
Now, I am a new grandpa and in my mind's eye, I see my son in law coming home from a hard day at work and his daughter and the two dogs waiting for him at the door and I know everything is going to be alright. He too will understand the Greatest Time of the Day.
When Briella gets a little older, I'll have to explain the "Dad Tax" to Robb.
