City dog/country dog, Minsky lived both/loved both...adjusted well to any setting
In the city, we had our parks... our play dates...our pals.
Country life's more laid back as I had Rosey to share in the duties...Each morning I'd let Minsky out, instructing Rosey: "Go with her girl..Watch out for Minks" (I'd say the words purely as ritual. You need not tell Rosey to protect and certainly not her Minka. Like me...we're turf. What's more, we're family.)
I would stand and watch Rosey follow her down the steps and into the yard, which would in turn trigger the big dogs to start pacing and barking alongside her from their side of the fence. All this would in turn, trigger the goats who'd come galloping out of the barn. Minsky's morning routine meant the day had begun. She was wake up call to our world. Like a conductor tapping his baton on the stand cuing the music, Minsky's first step out the door was the "instruments up" signal to a symphony of critters...critters who'd come running her way at this point, because Minsky's morning pee and poo meant food's coming next. But to Minsky it meant "They love me. They really love me!" (And they really, really did.)
Minsky loved taunting TJ. Something about her 18 pounds turning his 150 into pure submission brought her great joy. As committed as Rosey to her protection, but with a big honking fence in between, TJ would whimper like a baby when Minsky hit the grass. Lord did he want to play. Minsky did too, but TJ's intimidatingly large body and jowls the size of her head made her cautious. One fence inspection just to confirm no gates left open and it was: game on. Walking right up to his face, nose to nose through the fence, she would jump. He would jump. She would pounce. He would pounce. A few rounds later, he'd whimper again. She'd look to me as if to say "Are you catching this Mom? Look what I can do!" He'd look to me as if to say "Why? Why? Why can't I be Rosey ?" Something about knowing she had the power to turn this white fluffy mass of muscle and testosterone into a whimpering wuss, really made her happy. She'd hold her tail high as if to say "Sniff this big boy. Sniff it and weep." And he would. Sadistic I guess, that she loved his frustration so, but hilarious to witness. These are the things I cherish.
To know her was to love her. Minsky never met a stranger. Around here, she was the was the queen bee. Smallest only in stature, alpha in every other way...One bark I'd open the door...knowing Rosey had her back. Another bark later, Rosey had her herded back to the porch.
From the garden to the flower beds, down lavender lane, Minsky would wander. I'd go to hoeing, plowing, digging...She would walk the rows, check the plants...If I needed to go grab a tool, I needn't worry. All I had to do was spot the big white dog and look down...
At the end of the day, same rituals in reverse...nothing more beautiful than the garden at sunset...
When time to come in, I'd whistle... once again to see one big angel guarding one little angel ...
(An image forever in my mind...)
Today one little angel guards us all...
(An image now and forever in my soul)
Rest in peace Minka-girl.
There's a hole in my heart so big I can't stand it, but I wouldn't take anything for the journey...
I love you more than words can say...and thank you so for the love, the lessons, the life I was privileged to share... You're a good gurrrrl...
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