Four-legs make for a better rhythm

I can tell who is coming to open my door in the morning before I even open my peepers full of eye-boogers.  I know this not only because it is routine but because of the sound and rhythm of her footfalls.  It’s Sophie, my roommate Kara’s four-legged friend, and she wakes me up almost everyday.  Her gait is distinct.  It is slow (we joke that her name should be Slowphie) but steady, and her nails click and then drag rather than just clickclickclick like Mojo’s do.  [I guess I should mention that Mojo is my dog.] 

Sophie has these thick paws that you can hold tight in your palm like a furry piece of fruit.  That doesn’t make too much sense, but you just hold those paws and you’ll see.  Plus one of them is colored white while the rest of her striped tan and black, not unlike one Mr. Michael Jackson.  She uses one of them to push open my bedroom door, which stupidly doesn’t fit the doorjamb, therefore rendering it Sophers-friendly.  Then she lumbers in and stops by my bedside, licks my cheek.  SIGH! she’ll sigh, indicating that she is ready to be fed and played with, by the way!  I usually meet her complaint with a pat on the head and a return to dreamland. 

Sometimes, Kara’s boyfriend Tom’s dog (phew–that’s a lot of posessive punctuation there.  Okay, I guess there’s really only just two.  It may not even be grammatically correct.  Whatever.) Bailey, a chocolate German Pointer, will follow suit, and since I’m too damn lazy to go close the door because it’s about five paces from my mattress… five paces too many, it seems like her stride is the loudest sheerly from the change in acoustics brought on by the open door.  Hers is less of a click and more of a clip.  Girl is super lithe and in control of her body, so beneath my closed eyelids I always imagine her almost prancing across the laminate wood floor and onto the carpet, like a swole ballerina.

And Mojo, my sweet barrel-chested ball of doggy love, he has a crazy scissor walk that makes his legs look and sound like a sewing machine. 

I learn so much about these dogs everyday, and trying to predict what they’ll do next based on past experience is almost as fun as seeing them at their unpredictable best.  I just wonder what they have learned about us.  Do they recognize our gaits as distinct and specific to each one of us?  Surely they do.  If they know our smell and our words –“Walk” and “Hungry” are particularly popular — I find reason and weird comfort in believing that they know who just got home by the noise and rhythm of our footsteps.

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