While I pull on my gardening gloves and tackle more of my endless yard work, Dasa likes to roll around in the grass and luxuriate in the sun. She also likes to dig in the damp soil until her dainty white paws are so mud encased they are twice their original size. I remove huge clumps of mud from those dainty feet, pour black pepper on her excavation site, and return to my gardening. This impedes her efforts only slightly as she soon finds another spot that needs archeological investigation. Dasa seems unperturbed by my constant interruptions, although eventually she gets bored and stands with her front feet on the patio step, looking over her shoulder at me as though she’s a forlorn orphan, alone in the cruel world. If this does not trigger the desired response, she scratches insistently at the patio door. I scoop her up before opening the door since I don’t fancy mud as a decorative motif and must carefully wash little white feet before freeing her to spring up the stairs, down the hall, and onto the bed.
Ivan is also willing to help out in the back yard. A few weeks ago, I was clearing out my herb beds and replacing a few tender plants that didn’t survive our long cold winter. The morning started out chilly, but as it progressed the sun came out and I took off my small jacket. Ivan, certain he is indeed the center of his known universe, ambled over and pawed at my coat. I obligingly spread it out on the grass so he could lie on it while I worked. My puppy boy sighed happily, and all was right with the world.
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