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March 25, 2010 - Meg Alexander
She clambers down the steps, races out the door, sprints to the back yard, stops.
Squirrels pause from playing in leaves still waiting to be raked. Rabbits quiver, considering their escape routes. Black birds doing their awkward two-step dance squawk in annoyance.
And she descends among them, dirt and bits of dead grass flying up in her wake, critters scattering in every direction.
When all obvious distractions disappear, her ears, nose, tail drop, attending to the ground beneath her feet. Sniffing, sniffing, snorting, sniffing, something catches her attention and she's off again, seeking out the source of whatever smell is worthy of this futile hunt, a hunt that will eventually end when this dog's best friend grows impatient and voices the command — "Go potty!" — initiating a different type of hunt.
I understand my great beast's excitement at the sights and smells of the season. I, too, am easily distracted these days, longing to be outside, soaking up the nourishment of the warm sun, exploring the little green bits poking their heads up from the ground.
Spring is finally here.
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