Red

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#pic1000

Red was at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the door knob. I approached, steaming coffee in hand, and swung open the front door. Our world had changed overnight. The front yard was blanketed with a good three feet of new powdery snow. Red sat like a gargoyle at the line of demarcation between snow and front porch. His ball had landed softly with an almost imperceptible thump in an inch of the windswept snow. Like clockwork, and much unlike a gargoyle, his head moved – ball, look into my eyes, the front yard, ball, look into my eyes, the front yard.
I stepped out with my slippered feet and picked up his ball. Red sat motionless, but there was a sudden electric particle change of excitement in the air known only to man and his dog. His ball flew in a high arc toward the outer edge of our front yard. Just as it penetrated the snow top, Red launched himself off the porch bounding high toward his target. With Red's final bound, like a diver, his nose disappeared into the snow hole the ball had made.
Seconds passed, then minutes. The once three-inch hole had grown to over six feet in diameter. After ten minutes Red came and stood just off the bottom stairs and stared at me. Those eyes, so expressive and yet hauntingly steadfast. I am not Dr. Dolittle but, ask anyone, owners know exactly what their dog is saying.

[Red] Did you really throw it?
Is it behind your back?
I saw it fly and land so where did it go?
Hey! Put the coffee down, get your boots on and a jacket and help me recover my ball.
Get that shovelly-thingy, that fluff-mover and help me.

Come on, we’re burning daylight!