It is that moment which tells me the dog has successfully managed the transition from a previous caregiver to me.
And today, little Mitzi did just that.
I had just finished a volunteer shift at the theatre. When I've returned from previous absences, Eddie gives me a most effusive greeting, but Mitzi has remained in her open-doored crate in the mudroom until I invite her out for a cookie. Not so, today.
I had no sooner turned the key and opened the door a crack than an eight pound white fluffball came flying through the air and tackled me just below the knees. Then she stood on her back tippy-toes and reached up my leg as hiiiiiigh as she could to make sure I saw her there. Then she spun in circles, barked happy hellos, tried to climb up my leg again, and bounced around like a kid on a pogo stick.
Mitzi has claimed me as her Very Own Person. Her Mama Jean. The centre of her world.
And I couldn't be happier.
|Actually, it was just because you were late with mah dinner!|