Paws

I can remember, as a child, just holding a back paw in my hand and being absolutely delighted by its fragrance, its shape.

That ridiculous, curved inertness. The way you could hold it out and the dog would just look at it, perplexed. The fact that it reminded me of a microphone and I could speak into it, and the dog still wouldn't object.





Why paws--especially the back ones--held such fascination for me I am not sure, but they still do. Fortunately I have been able to channel my interest into harmless and perhaps even productive pursuits, like holding those paws steady as I massage them and trim the nails, or coaxing them into a "shake" with a touch and a hot dog.

And fortunately, over the years of coming into contact with so many different sizes and shapes of dogs, my interest has broadened to include cool, fresh noses, flappy or satellite dish ears, silky or hairbrush-like fur--indeed, the whole dog package.

But I still think paws are amazing, and they never fail to cheer me up. In fact try this Miracle Cure that works every time for me: when the worries of the world get you down, when things just seem so...darned...big, and heavy, try focusing on something very small and light. Take in every contour of that paw, the pink or black or vaguely golden pads, the roughness, the dry, salty fragrance, the shape.

Drink it in, and really focus on it.

Did the paw make you smile?