It wasn’t so long ago that I was on a strongly anti-dog bend. I was tired of them whining and destroying things, being in the way and demanding things. From Archie crying before his breakfast, his walk, and for no reason, to Scout being real weird about Roby, I was not in a good place about our furry companions.

Of course, dogs are people too, they’re carried away by seasons and moods and trends and habits. With Spring well at hand and summer blowing its hot breath on the back of our necks, the dogs are far, far happier. 

Archie hasn’t run after a deer or a squirrel or a ghost in weeks, he doesn’t complain before his morning walk, and only sometimes does he beg for the ball. Mostly he’s sweeter than I’ve ever seen him. He’ll come from nowhere to press his neck into mine or just sit by me. When I’m outside working he’ll lay in the grass or rest on the ratty outdoor sofa we keep like real country folk. 

Scout too plays with the ball or sleeps on the kitchen bench, she even lets Roby squeeze her fur. 

Dogs have moods, and seasons of the soul. It makes sense that the turning of the warmth would have more of an impact on them than us, or at least equal to. These creatures can’t read, they can’t watch movies, they can’t do puzzles or have conversations, they can only be in their bodies. Especially archie. 

Abby and I have been having a tough time with all of the busy-ness at the arrival of summer. It’s overwhelming. In the same way that the weather allows our dogs to be more embodied, it forces us to be. I wonder how much of he discomfort is that wrenching from our winter minds into our summer bodies.

Not none of it, I guess.