Chewie and the plight of the laid back doodle

I have often wondered while watching Chewie sleep - how does one let go of all the world and relax that much? Especially Chewie, our very own OSHA inspector. We have received both official paw prints designating the stairs on the back porch as well as the keyboard that appeared in the piano studio as officially approved to be near or on without the use of a hard hat or pair of steel toed boots - we have NOT received the paw print of approval on the Red Miele Monster, or the Scary Child Gate that appears without notice suddenly in doorways through out the house. From what I can tell the approval forms must be quite complicated - they often invole several episodes over a period of days - nose bumping and pawing are usually the first method of investigation, followed closely by a good full double nostril sniff and occasionally a little gnaw very front teeth or touch by the very tip of his tongue. These tests are then repeated several times, and can occasionally take days - or as in the case of the vacuum cleaner we are heading down to the three year mark with Chewie. They are still not on his approved list and he refuses to remain on the premises when that crazy red machine starts getting dragged around the house. He scurries to the back door and out to the "dog" yard...safe space.

However, as is evident this morning some things in life are to be enjoyed. One thing Chewie adores is being groomed. I don't know if it is karma, or a supreme being or maybe a wicken force, maybe it is just a variation of Murphy's law - but why is it that Chewie, who really doesn't require much in the way of grooming loves it and Gromit our cotton haired burr magnet dislikes being brushed or trimmed. It is some twisted fate for Gromit I am sure of it.

Back to my laid back puppy. I pulled out the brush this morning, and started futzing with Chewie's coat. He was laying on his side, his whole body flat to the floor. He lifted his head slightly when I started to brush him, so I brushed his face and he twisted more into the brush. I started brushing his front shoulder and he layed his head on my knee. As I reached his underside he put his paw in the air and sighed. Then he rolled onto his back so I could get more of his belly. As I moved towards his hind leg he rolled back to his side and just patiently waited as I brushed. He fell asleep. I had a dilemma on my hands now, how was I going to get the other side done...I lifted his four paws in the air and rolled him over, he didn't even flinch. He just loves being touched.

Then he patiently stood and watched as I took my time grooming Gromit with the shears. Kristin came out and we took turns finding spots and fixing them - really you would have tears in your eyes to watch the poor beautiful white boy stuck on top of a table knowing that I have the clippers in hand. What can he expect but a long drawn out bad haircut...alas...Chewie watched as I clipped Gromit's nails too. All the time Gromit looked like a horse being bothered by flies - pawing at the table, stomping his foot, using his tail like a switch, shaking swinging his head in the air...Still as I took Gromit down and he ran away to his favorite lazy boy chair in the living room to sleep off this distasteful hour of his life, Chewie jumps right up on the table at Kristin's request. Away we go - and he stands ever so patiently as Kristin trims him. He looks like he is posing for a great photo, or like he is trying to stand exactly in the right spot for as long as he can possibly stand it....he loves the attention, the treats, the brushing and combing. \

Chewie's life is so funny - he is such a creature of routine and loyalty; play very hard and relaxing every bit as much drive. His plight in life is that he won't get as much grooming and touching as he would like because, well frankly, his coat doesn't require it. Just to honor his good nature and spirit, I am going to try to groom him a little more often - what pleasures there are in life for my safety boy - surely should be indulged.