It matters to me not a bit that two of my three blog readers already know this story. I need it written down so that when I have awful days I can think of tiny poodles and feel better. So much better.
Matt and I were at a park. It was a Sunday after church, and I’m sure we were talking about deep and spiritual things. Actually, on this occasion, we really were talking about deep things. I remember being on the verge of tears, and then frustrated, and then reassured. I was a big tangle of emotion, though it was not emotion directed at Matt, if that makes sense. Matt was sitting on the grass across from me, legs crossed, perhaps flicking my hair away from my eyes occasionally.
Here’s how the conversation was going:
Suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere, a tiny dog–a tiny black poodle to be exact–bounds into Matt’s lap, scrambling adorably into his arms. I stare at the tiny dog. I stare at Matt holding the tiny dog.
Matt: So as I was saying, blah…comforting…blah…
Brenna *interrupting*: Wait, I’m sorry. It’s just…I really can’t take you seriously when there is a tiny dog sitting in your lap.
Matt: *looks down at the dog*
Dog *looks up at Matt*: *I love you. I love you. I want to be your friend forever. Please take me home. Please feed me. I love you.*
And then we collapsed into laughter. I plucked the dog from Matt’s lap and cuddled it up to my cheek, scanning the park for an owner of some kind. Indeed, I saw a couple a few hundred feet coming from the same general direction that the poodle had materialized from. Oddly, they did not seem to mind that thier poodle had made fast friends with strangers at the park. They ignored the dog until we released it to see where it would go. The tiny ball of fluff happily hopped over to the couple. It ran around them in excited circles, returned to us, and then continued to zip back and forth between us until the owners called it over for the walk home. “Your dog,” I wanted to tell them, “just made my day.” But they headed off onto a trail, and I never got the chance.