Comfort

Arwen is a comfort junkie. She lounges, rests, and stretches. There's never a pillow or pile of clothes that's allowed to just be left alone. Arwen will find it and lay on it. Her fur will tag it as hers. She's good to herself. And don't let anything get in her way. Nyxie will get the stare-down from the couch or bed until she moves to accommodate Her Majesty.

Sometimes I wonder how far removed she is from her genetic sled-pulling roots. After all, she is a spoiled rotten, pampered fluff ball that eats doggy fine dining and sleeps on a velvet bed. But then there's the walk.

The walk brings out the inner sled dog. On our walks, she's alert, sharp and focused. There are times when she looks back at me (yes, I am not the lead dog, but I would be in the back on the sled anyway, right?) and almost seems surprised to see me there. She's that intent on her surroundings. Her nose is working, her eyes are scanning for any movement. When there's something that catches her eye, a bird or flower waving in the breeze, she'll stare it down like a predator. Her ears rotate forward, eyes piercing and shoulders at the ready to pounce.

It's these walks that remind me of how fierce she is. She is a wild thing in a slow pack. The price for chicken, salmon and comfy pillows is not too high, I suppose. The belly rubs don't hurt either.