Wriggy Up

A big dog and a little boy... what a fascinatingly fun combo to watch.

There really isn't too much my words can add to moments like the one to the left. Combined, 128 lbs. of budding friendship and the occasional coughed up tuft of fur.

The relationship between dog and boy has grown almost as much as the two of them have each grown physically. Mr. O, because that's what little boys do... grow. And Wrigley, the Bernese Mountain Dog, because that's what big dogs do when they eat five meals a day.

Things have moved quickly, too. Just days ago, it seems, Mr. O would pat and grab if he could catch Wrigley. Tonight, he climbed on Wrigley's back as if she was a fluffy and insufficiently bathed horse. He straddled her back with a big, fur-stuffed smile. She lay there with, "Was that soggy goldfish cracker really worth this?" written all over her face. Then, she answered her own question with a grunt, "Yes, of course it was worth it. It was a goldfish cracker after all."

This came minutes after a short game of London Bridges, probably the only such version of the game played west of the Pond that actually does a pretty good job recreating the actual smells of London's streets.

Wrigley stands by. Mr. O crouches down and begins his crawl. Half-way under the odiferous bridge, Wrigley, the dog known for the grace she so often shows by simply falling off our porch while backing up, decides, "game over." She hops her substantial hind end up in the air, passes it over Mr. O's little noggin and gently comes down along side. O looks up, amused and completely unaware that he just missed the sensation of having a hundred pounds of dog rump land on the back of his head.

Quite a pair, these two, and I'm glad Mr. O has a dog. He seems to be glad, too. I'm quite sure the jury is still out on Wrigs, but she puts on a great face.