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| Sassy is completely in love with the four Esses, each daughter's name beginning with S. Each one has fussed over Sassy, and she loves it. Scared of her? - they own pit bulls. |
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| Three legs? She was the star of the dog park. The other dogs were jealous of the magic orange ball that made everyone applaud her. |
Yesterday, we passed Pat and John's home on our walk. John called from his door, "Sassy...." His wife came to share the love, too. Sassy is expected to kiss their hands each time, and she does.
On the way back we saw the morning coffee couple. She is known for putting her car in park, jumping out to see Sassy. We see them every morning in warm weather. Next the painter stopped his car on the street and talked to us. One day, his children and nephew brought us five paint cans (five gallon, empty and clean) for gardening.
If Ranger Bob is around, there is a big round of yelping, barking, and moaning. She adores him and his brother Mike. Bob calls her ChowHound, and adds, "I love that dawg. I am not a dawg person but I love that dawg. Whenever you get tired of her..." We gave him a large print of her smiling face. He loves it.
When Bob knocks on the door, he asks, "Got any of that good coffee left?" I make a pot of pour-over coffee while we talk about battleships, fixing cars, and dealing with taxes. I work on his taxes and get beautiful used books about the Navy for $1 used. One was in demand so it was more, so that was his chosen Christmas present. Paperwork flummoxes him the way car repairs stymie me, so we specialize. Sassy begins by barking and carrying on with him, demanding treats, and finally lying down to listen to him talk. If we watch car repair videos in our spare room, she lies down to listen.
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| Sassy wore the Maroons' M for the river walk, which added up to two people and a dog. Our reunions are less organized than a London soccer riot. |
We have taken Sassy to several Moline reunions. We are the luckiest people in the world to have her, but people thank us for rescuing her. She has routines and games that manage us, whether we think about it or not. Yesterday, she put her paw in the air, pretending to claw the table. Of course, she fixed her eyes on me. She looks like a student in the classroom when she does that, except she often adds her devilish smile. She knows I will laugh and respond. Then she grins at my reaction.
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| When MHS 66 ladies and Christina had lunch at a Moline reunion, Sassy and I provided a security perimeter. Notice how she is barking her happiness. If she could not bark her joyfulness, she would explode. |
Sassy generates happiness wherever she goes - post office, meat market, walks, trips. If I happen to pass through McDonalds without her, they ask about Sassy, who gets a little ice cream each time.
The Frosty Paws routine each night is elaborate:
- Restless murmuring, sometimes hurt looks.
- "Is Sassy looking for something?"
- "Maybe, Frosty Paws?"
- Her responses vary from slapping the blanket with a grin to sorrowful barks about being forgotten.
- "Love first, then Frosty Paws."
- She stays in place.
- "Come on up here. Do I have to YANK you?"
- She feigns terror and clutches the mattress.
- I reach out and tug her a bit. Eyes widen.
- Then I clap. "Move. Move. Or no treat."
- She gets up and moves two inches, collapsing down.
- "Are you kidding me? Move up!"
- She moves up just enough to be petted, grinning.
- After hearing how much everyone loves her, she gets one teaspoon of vanilla ice cream.
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| The drive through tellers loved her so much, they gave her extra treats for barking loudly into the mike. That woke up everyone inside. The branch moved away - too much overhead? |
