A pair of dark eyes surrounded by a face full of white fur peered into the window and gave a friendly bark, not too deep, not too loud, but a bark that was just right to get the attention of a little boy playing on the other side of the room.
“Uh, babe, what is that?”
It was shocking to see this large creature looking in at us like a spectator at a zoo, curious and anxious for interaction. In fact, so suddenly did it appear that my husband was unable to register the nature of the drooling visitor. However, I knew exactly where the fluffy voyeur was from, further confirmed as it continued to peer into our living room, waiting to be acknowledged by someone who was still making his way to the window.
The animal’s name was Sugar, she lived across the street, and was most often found covered in mud, racing around the perimeter of the yard barking at birds. We learned her name just a few days ago, but had visited her through the winter and spring. She was a living landmark on our walks, a touch-point during our travels that indicated a successful road crossing.
It appeared that she was simply returning the favor in her first moments of freedom. We were her touch-point from a successful road crossing in the opposite direction.
“She came to find Little Legs.”
At last, Little Legs made it to the window and shrieked in delight. He dropped his Tonka truck which landed on my foot with a crash and a cry of pain, from me, as it was an old hand-me-down toy that was on the verge of being unsafe with metal and hard, moveable plastic bits. Little Legs grabbed onto the window ledge with a grin that was made of the same combination of drool, teeth, and a hanging tongue as his visitor and pointed at the door.
He was ready to go out and see his friend without a window or gate between the two. Sadly, it was a desire that was not meant to be for these two besties. An invisible breeze blew the scent of something too juicy to ignore past the dog’s wet nose. Sugar sniffed the air, gave another bark and took off at a full gallop, determined to spend the rest of its freedom doing dog-things from its to-do list, now one item shorter.
It is nice to have friends, isn’t it Little Legs?