• Mel Butcher

Life Lessons from Dogs: Puddles

I have two dogs. They're both mixed breed rescues.


Luna was picked up somewhere on the streets of Alabama, an abandoned puppy.


Cokie was surrendered by her original owner in Louisiana just before turning one.


They're both high energy dogs. It took months to find a match for Luna's high energy, but it finally revealed itself in Cokie. I met probably 10 possible rescues before finding Cokie. As soon as Luna and Cokie were in the pen together, the game of chase was on.


The Wisconsin winter can be hard on dogs. We've made the frigid trips to the dog park; they don't seem to mind. And now, it's just warmed up enough for your face not to sting when you walk outside. And also just warm enough to begin melting the snow.

And that means a sloppy mess with lots of puddles.


Luna has slick, black, wirey fur. It's almost as though she's been sprayed with scotch guard. Mud and dirt simply does not stick.


Cokie on the other hand has extremely fluffy fur. I'm not even sure what to compare it to. It's fine, soft, long and everything sticks to it. When she goes on her adventures through the thickets of wooded areas Luna would not be brave enough to enter, Cokie comes back grinning and covered in briars that have to be lovingly removed one-by-one from her beautiful coat.




Unfortunately, if you want to look at it that way, their personalities diverge here.


While Luna is not prone to retaining mud, she avoids it anyway. She gracefully bounds across the puddles, small streams, and mud... like a gazelle. A true site to behold.


Cokie, on the other hand, does not give a f*ck.


Not one.


Mud?


She'll walk right through that. Maybe even roll around in it.


Puddle?


Not only will she walk through it, she will traverse the longest possible transect and achieve maximum soakage.


Any why not?


It's just a puddle.


Cokie don't care.


Cokie doesn't give a sh*t.


She just does what she wants.


Anyhow. The first couple days of this weather, I was mildly annoyed. I knew no matter how far we walked upon stepping out that when we returned, Cokie would have to have a bath. Within the first ten steps, her entire belly and legs would be sopping.


Cokie doesn't exactly like baths, but she tolerates them.


And as she tolerated them, I thought, "OK this isn't a big deal".


And then as we walked more and I watched her joyfully strut through the longest transects of puddles, I laughed.

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