Category Archives: Pal

renascent.

[ri-nasuh nt, –ney-suh nt]

adjective

  1. being reborn; springing again into being or vigor.

The warmth of the first day of spring feels renascent and Pal can feel the vigor as much as I can. There’s a pep in his step that increases my pep exponentially. I shed layers maybe prematurely because the breeze is still cool. My skin soaks up the warmth of the sun. Spring. Pal walks along on the snowshoe trail, stopping only to gaze longingly at the dogs running free.

“That will be you as soon as you listen on my first command,” I don’t have to lean down to pet his head. “If I say ‘come’ and you ‘come’, I will let you run free like those lucky dogs.”

He doesn’t respond and we walk along.

I love the obvious change in seasons here. I think it’s even better than New Year’s resolutions. Hobbies change, perspectives shift, and the trees watch it all and bloom under the extended sunlight. Windows are rolled down. People bring out their lawn chairs to utilize the lawn again. It’s as if you get the excitement of moving to a new place without having to rent a U-Haul. Fly fishing and mountain biking and hiking without post-holing in the snow. Pal is stoked. After our hike, I tie his leash to a long rope and then wrap it around the tree in my front yard, giving him more freedom he’s had in a month.

This is where he chooses to sit:

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I lean into him and say, “Had I not loved you before, this would’ve been the moment I would have fallen in love with you.”

And this what a giant polar bear looks like by a fire:

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May your skin soak up an abundance of sunshine, may your step be pepped, and may spring be one full of vigor and rebirth for you, friends.

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commodious.

[kuhmoh-dee-uh s]

adjective

  1. spacious and convenient.
  2. ample or adequate for a particular purpose.

The cozy cabin is so comfortably not commodious. It’s convenient for me, because I’m little and I like not having to take too many steps to make coffee. Now I have a gigantic polar bear and when I look at him taking up an eighth of the whole living room, I realize the cabin is not commodious and I feel badly for him. But he gets more cuddles and he always feels close to his new momma. So I’m hoping his blog states that he loves his new cozy non-commodious cabin.IMG_20160310_171457

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natter.

[nat-er]

verb (used without object)

  1. to talk incessantly; chatter.

noun

  1. 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:

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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.