The Cure For What Ails You

As you know, I have a slight tendency toward the blues. The bad thing about this is that, of course, sometimes I'm inexplicably sad. There is an upside, however. The upside is that I have come to recognize that feeling blue is not necessarily related to actually having any reason to be blue, and so I have learned various ways of counteracting it. There's no sure antidote, sometimes one thing works while another does not. Sometimes, frankly, nothing works. But here are a few things that work pretty well.

1) Puppies or kitties. This is almost a guarantee. I'm not convinced a lap full of puppies wouldn't cure just about anything.

2) Cooking something you love to eat, or baking something really evil and comforting like chocolate chip cookies.

3) Sharing what you've cooked. Sometimes I take cookies to my 90-year-old neighbor

4) Getting outside, particularly in this weather, particularly with the dogs, or with Grayson, or both.

This Sunday, Grayson being absent, I took both big dogs to the Norman dog park. I didn't take them at the same time, because sometimes when they are excited they can pull my arms off, or take me sneaker-skiing, neither of which is any fun. So I took them one at a time.

First Flower.

Then Roxy.

Both dogs had a wonderful time. Flower in particular was as happy as I've ever seen her. All those other dogs to meet! All those new smells! All those people to pet her and make much of her! She enjoyed the park quite a bit, but then I took her over to the nearby pond, and things really got good.

She splashed in the water! She rolled on the grass! She ran and slid, shoulder down, on the grass down the hill. She ran with the other dogs. She gulped so much water out of the pond that she threw up. She sat, wet, drippy and smelly, in my lap, threw her head back, tongue lolling, and smiled at me. She smiled at everyone. She was so happy that I think her happiness was infectious. It certainly lightened my heart, and some of the other dog owners there commented on what a happy dog she was.

At last I loaded her up, – dog smell and dirty paws and all – back into my car, and took her home to trade her out for Roxy.

Roxy takes play much more seriously. She was quite anxious about being in the park at first. Tail tucked, she skulked around the edges, avoiding other dogs, and sticking close to me. I was a bit afraid she wouldn't come out of her shell -- until she found a tennis ball. Then it was Game On. I threw the ball until my arm was tired. Then we crossed to the pond and I threw the tennis ball into the water until I figured enough was enough and I took her back to the park to return the tennis ball.

I was sure Rox would be too tired to keep playing, but an obliging fellow back in the park who had one of those ball-throwers-on-a-stick starting really slinging them for her, and she went after them as hard as ever: hell-bent-for-leather. Finally, fearful that she would have a heart attack and drop dead, I thanked the man with the ball-slinger and took Roxy home, too.

Both dogs slept most of the afternoon. And I felt happy.