Over the last few weeks I’ve been snapping shots of Zephyr in his natural habitat, all over my house–well, our house really.
When I was a kid we had an enormous golden retriever, Boomer. We lived in the mountains–wet, snow, dirt and more dirt. My mother had hard wood floors inlaid in our house which is a ridiculous thing to have with children and dogs running amok. Needless, she fought for her floor. Poor Boomer got the brunt end of the deal as his bed was just inside the door on a towel. I’m sure he was fine. He preferred to be outside anyway and I often found him on the deck, curled up beneath several inches of snow.
Boomer mostly stayed close to us and the neighborhood kids, no leash, no fences, but it was the 60s, 70s and kids, like dogs, wandered.
It isn’t like that now. Today we keep our dogs and our kids very close. With me, my dogs are my kids. And no one is sleeping just inside the door on a towel. Furniture has throw blankets and everything can be washed. There is nothing that makes me happier than to see Zephyr home from a long walk, well fed, curled up on the couch or my bed sound asleep, snoring. It’s comforting.
As for Boomer, mom may have thought she ran the roost: kids in beds, dog on towel, wood floors clean, but I snuck Boomer into my room at night all the time, and when storms blew and knocked trees against the house with a tremor, all 100+ pounds of Boomer got onto my little single bed with me where I gave him all the room he needed before I curled up into him for warmth and protection.
The grit of my life has not changed that much in 30-some-odd years.