By Cherimie Crane Weatherford
With tightly closed sleep-infused eyes, the stare penetrates through my slumbering soul. Similar to the way a sudden flash of lightening interrupts a summer’s sky, the electricity reverberates through my resting limbs. Not my lack of sleep, my overworked bones or my desperate need for rest hinders her morning mission. The sun signals her rise, the birds sing her good morning and there is absolutely nowhere for me to hide. Retreating under the covers does nothing but encourage her. Any visible skin is an immediate and available target. It is as if the world is her oyster and I am her hesitant pearl. Her name is Rosie, and she is my dog.
Weighing in at an intimidating 11 pounds with at least half of that credited to her misbehaving mane, she begins each morning with a full-blown attack consisting of finger gnawing, face licking, hair pulling and ear nibbling glee. Such unrequited happiness comes without warning and without opportunity to adequately prepare with copious amounts of caffeine. If one should ever doubt that animals know happiness, eagerness, excitement or anticipation, let that doubting soul rise with my Rambling Rose.
Such an awkward little being, she is without pedigree, without showing caliber and without a doubt the happiest soul trotting through life. Obedience isn’t her forte and her uncanny ability to, without fail, choose only the most expensive of chew toys is a thing of beauty.
Her morning rousing ritual is only the beginning of my daily Rosie encounters. She reminds me that sleeping late gains nothing, greeting the day with play solves everything, and to make absolutely certain my shoes are not left on the floor. This pint-size Plato has a philosophy that if borrowed, changes everything.
No complicated client, difficult day, or real estate rumble is a match for the relentless exuberance of my dear Rosie. Drudging through my door after having the shrapnel of a bomb-wielding economy hit me from all sides, she gives me no reprieve. There is no time for reflection or pity, no time to complain or comfort. If the sun still graces the sky, there is reason to throw a ball. Barely able to shed the weight of the day, she drops it at my feet until I surrender. She doesn’t ask if I am tired, she cares not if my contracts close. Construction chaos means nothing to Rambling Rose. I am home, I am healthy, the world is a good place.
This strange little creature has taught me more about the will to live, the will to love, and the will to hide under my covers more than any human I can recall. Her simple existence reminds me of the simplicity of happiness. She has no fear, she has no regret and she has no chance of taming her harrowing hair. As a rescue; she knows how to survive and as a female she knows how to persuade. She navigates through the oversized world with pint-size paws and the will to greet each day with a kiss and a smile.
If you don’t have a colorful companion such as Rambling Rose, maybe you should consider it, it does keep life in perspective, sadness at bay and alarm clocks unnecessary.
By Cherimie Crane Weatherford