Seven-year-old puppy

A man in a homburg politely stepped aside to let me pass with my wheeled suitcase.  The man's small dog stepped aside with him as my suitcase popped over the seams and cracks of the sidewalk.  I walked by and I caught the dog's quick glance up toward the face of the man, who was preoccupied with his thoughts for the day.  It was a quick glance.  Looking for assurance.  The wheeled suitcase might have been vaguely threatening to the dog, who was thus comforted by the total indifference of his master to the contraption.

There was a time when Larsen would have sought the same quick reassurance perhaps for a wheelie suitcase bouncing over an uneven sidewalk.  Not long ago, it seems, he shied from a snowman and would not walk past, until finally he worked up the courage to sniff it and then pee on it.

Today, Larsen would be as indifferent to the snowman as the man in the hat was to my suitcase.

However, here and there puppyhood shows itself.  After dinner, Larsen will pull out the most obnoxious of his squeak toys to gain anyone's attention .  He will bring a shoe from the closet and drop it with a thump to demonstrate how bad he has suddenly become.  Once such behavior has been demonstrated, I'm obligated to drop to the floor and lead him on a merry chase through the house, grabbing at him as he growls and bites me and as we torment one another in joyous play.

Happy birthday to a seven-year-old pup as he tries to instigate evening mahem.