Saturday, May 29, 2010

No Lifeguard on Duty; Swim At Your Own Risk

Spring melted into summer, and Mr. Big prize finally figured out he was gonna marry me. We discussed marriage in May, were officially engaged June 27th, and married July 20th- of the same summer. And before your nasty little minds start to speculate, we have no human children, so no, there was no reason for the rush except the fact that we couldn’t see any good reason why we shouldn’t just go ahead and get it done. We were two adults with careers and a new home to move into, so why delay it for the absurd reason of looking for a better wedding venue? But I digress.
There were a few odd weeks between when we decided to marry until we actually did. They were, as you can imagine, extraordinarily busy weeks, filled with wild wedding planning (I visited the cake boutique and the florist in the same day), a house to finish up, furniture to buy (because MBP was NOT bringing his man trash into my new house) and parties to attend. There was also his crying mother to contend with (you aren’t really going MARRY that girl, are you?), but those issues have long since resolved.
We were having a lovely time packing and planning, planning and packing. And all the while our ever growing baby lolled about the house watching it all take place. Blue was never an affectionate dog. Had we known anything at all about the breed we would have known that Huskies really could care less about the people in their lives. They have one purpose, one love, and one focus-running. You have no idea how many times that theme will show up in the Blue stories. They are stubborn, single minded and uninterested in their people. But we were interested in her. No, I take that back. I was interested, MBP was obsessed. There was a brief time when I was concerned that I might have made a HUGE strategic error with my whole grand evil plan. The whole purpose for getting the dog was to make me seem even more indispensable to MBP, but there were a few brief moments where I feared that stinky shedding beastie might actually just replace me entirely in his affections. Truth be told, I think I’ve been outranked on any number of occasions by certain canine loves of MBP, but he won’t admit it.
One afternoon we were packing up that beloved tiny apartment of his, and found ourselves tired and cranky and extraordinarily hot. We glanced over to where Blue was lolling, and saw that she too was panting hard from the heat. This is the part of the story where I tell you that dogs over 25 pounds were strictly forbidden in his upscale apartment complex, and that MBP had been sneaking his ever growing bundle in and out of his apartment for weeks. But hey, we both figured, he’s moving out, so why hide her anymore? More than that, it was hot and miserable, and we all needed a break. What better, we asked ourselves, than a dip in that cool crystal clear pool that was oh-so-conveniently located just steps from his sliding glass patio door? We’d be pool free too soon, so why not take a quick afternoon dip…with our overheated dog? This, as you can imagine, was extraordinarily against the rules.
The pool was surrounded by an iron fence, bars narrowly spaced. We figured we’d all be safe and sound inside those confines. We jumped into our suits, scooped up Blue, and shot out into the pool. Because of the proximity of his apartment to said pool, MBP didn’t bother bringing either shirt or shoes poolside. What’s the point, right? Well…
MBP lowered himself, and that dog, gingerly into the water, and I followed. She clung to him madly, pointed ears dropping to the far sides of her head like they did whenever she was stressed or extremely scared. Her paws, huge in relation to the rest of her, curled around his shoulders, and her neck stretched as high as it possibly could to keep her head out of water. MBP is 6’4” tall, and we were in the shallow end. She was in no danger. It’s possible that only the tip of her tail was actually in the water. Again, had we taken the time to educate ourselves at all about the breed we would have known that Huskies don’t just hate water, they loathe it. Dogs bred in the arctic for sled racing hate water? What??
Mr. Big Prize gently lowered his frenzied bundle into the water, turned in my direction, and let go. SHE SWAM! She swam beautifully and confidently, and right toward me-her MOMMY!! Then, she swan right past me, right on to the steps leading out of the pool. The minute her paws hit stairs she was running. Up the steps, across the sunning area, and right through those closely spaced iron bars she ran, at full out top Husky racing speed. She took off like there was a village in Alaska dying from the plague and she was carrying the cure. And there were MBP and I, slowed from exiting the pool by the pull of the water on legs, unable to stop what was happening.
Before I knew what was happening MBP had bolted from that pool, over those iron bars, and was running wet, shirtless and barefooted after that horrified wet dog. It was a long long footrace over sticker filled grass and gravel, her four legs to his two. He finally caught her, and was forced to carry the soggy thing all the way back to the apartment, while she quivered and clung, and I laughed.
It would not be the last time Mr. Big Prize was forced to run, nearly naked, after his first true doggie love.

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