This is whom (fine: what) I got to dogsit and then let go home in the shortest two weeks ever: Morgan and Mia. Maybe because of her hips, Morgan is the only adult lab I have ever known who has lain down with her legs outstretched behind her, like a puppy. I should have taken close-ups of her amazing ears.
Neither dog seemed to pine pathetically, but Morgan didn't eat much and almost bounced when her mother came to get her. I wasn't home when Mia's father arrived but she was ecstatic to see him. I hope she likes her new human sister. Oh, and Blake dropped a shoulder feather today, round (so obviously shoulder joint), dark gray with just a fleck of racing-stripe white. I'm sure he doesn't remember his mother at all, but her name was Blaze for an un-hen-like streak of bright yellow through her otherwise dun crest. I pointed out to him how Mia had a similar streak of light-on-dark, but he failed to feel any kinship with her because of it, nor because he clearly had Mia-colored feathers--(not quite) black with a tip of white. Both dogs ignored the bird, thank goodness, but that is not something I expect of either a younger dog or a dog who is more confident of her family.
I think the first time Blake met a dog was Thanksgiving of 2000, when Maggie came with Clove and Dexy. I wouldn't doubt that he had a headache from carrying his crest so far forward (is that why I like the Grinch's dog Max, because of his antler? I think of him getting caught in the sewing machine and hopefully waving from the back of the sled more than gradually dropping from over-antlered-ness). Perhaps because he's older, because because these two dogs were older, he could relax in their presence--play in his box, have his head pet, go to sleep on a shoulder.
He's such a good boy, but he's not a dog.