Prompt: "A song with a title that features two of the following words: 'the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog' (not including 'the'!!!!)"
Selected by Brianna
"Brown Dog"
Tucker B's
Bish Bosh 2: The Bosh Bosh, 2002
My first dog was a beautiful part-rottweiler, part-lab, part-who-knows named Molly. I went with my mom to pick her up at the rescue, and practically got smothered with dog kisses the whole ride home. She was the best good girl from that day until the day she died.
People often relate acting "like an animal" to wildness, impoliteness, or straight barbarity. We could learn a lot from them, though. Take the lazy dog, for example. Like most lazy dogs of the world, Molly loved to find the sunniest spot in the house to bask in for the afternoon. I would lie down next to her and soak it in—the quiet, the warmth, the repetitive sounds of her breathing next to me. My childhood was almost completely undramatic, and all but those moments of peace were still really special to me. Still are.
Even today, especially over summer break, I like to lay in bed a little longer than necessary. I open up a curtain or two and let the morning sun send streaks across my comforter. I stretch out my toes, open my palms up above my head, close my eyes, and soak it in. If I'm lucky, it's quiet enough to hear the sounds of my own breathing this time. I remember what Molly taught me and embrace a moment of warm laziness. A perfect way to start a day, the lazy dogs have got something right.
1 comment:
I will have to seek outside arbitration to determine whether her name was spelled "Molly" or "Mollie," but I left your post at "Molly" for now because you were a lot closer to her and have more of a right to determine the spelling than I do.
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