Downhill with Sammy

Our daughters take turns keeping tabs on us.  This is dear and quaint to me.  It helps me accept the fact that I am growing old.  We did something right with our children; they are compassionate people.

It was Catherine’s turn this time.  She arranged the traditional viewing of the Kentucky Derby at the Crozet house.  She brought her Yorkshire terrier, Sammy, along for the fun.

Sammy is an amiable dog.  We walked at a leisurely pace around the pond at Mint Springs before the race.  Sammy stopped every few inches to sniff some new scent.  When Cat and Matt first got Sam, he barely knew that he was a dog.  He did amazing tricks for treats but he didn’t know how to bark, not even at the postman.  Cat and Matt have trained him to be a real dog.  Halfway around the pond, Sammy surprised us by jumping in.  He looked surprised himself, but decided to wallow a while.  We let him.

At the far end of the pond, Sammy found a hill with a dead fish or some goose poo, something smelly anyway, on the ground halfway down.  He rolled over it while writhing on his back and sliding downhill.  When he reached the bottom he ran back up the hill and writhed and rolled downhill again.  He repeated this performance three or four time with apparent joy.

We rode home with a reeking and happy dog.  To me, though running horses are beautiful, everything after Sammy rolled was anticlimax. 

Catherine sent us the video she took with her phone of Sammy’s downhill slides.  I am saving it for some gray day when I need a belly laugh.