natter.

[nat-er]

verb (used without object)

1. to talk incessantly; chatter.

noun

2. a conversation; chat.

My black hiking pants and black jacket are covered in white hair. I have drool-specific rags on my cute teal coffee table. The pure white snow around my cabin is now the inedible yellow people warn you about. I adopted a huge six-year-old polar-bearesque 81-pound Akbash dog. His name is Pal. After visiting him at the shelter five times, I knew his name couldn’t be changed. He is a pal to his very core. He knows he’s handsome, so he tilts his head just right and makes googly eyes and then falls onto his back so you’ll rub his belly. And you’ll want to. If you stop, he’ll put his gigantic paw on your leg or arm and look at you with sad eyes that seem to say, “You have more important things to do besides giving me a little lovin’?” Right now I’m using one hand to type in order to continue the cuddling before I go to work. Super inefficient.

Over the past five days, I’ve noticed the crazy new natter. I live in a cabin by myself without a TV so usually the only noise is coming from my Pandora. Now the chattery natter with Pal is constant.

“Good morning, big boy. It’s far too early. Please lay back down.”

“Should we make coffee? I wish you knew how to start the water while I was still in bed.”

“Do you have any idea how handsome you are?”

“What have you been doing all evening while Momma was bringing home the bacon? Have you ever eaten bacon? Gosh, you’d love it.”

“Want to check out Fuller House on Netflix? Climb up here. This’ll be so cheesy and heartwarming.”

“Pal, those are the Boulder Mountains to your right! My favorites. We’ll hike all over those beasts soon.”

“We’re in this together now, me and you. You got that? I think we’ll be okay. Do you? Yeah. I’m new at this. You’re gigantic. But I’m the boss.”

I tend to overthink things. Especially when it comes to big commitments. So I’m still a bit in shock that I did it. The last time I went to the animal shelter to see Pal, I went in with a lot of questions. I saw this poster on the door:

And I thought, yes, love can be simple. So I filled out the application. Could traveling and vet bills and unknown petlike things become very complicated? Absolutely. But I love this big cuddly shedding machine and we’re in this together.