It's lunch time and it's raining. Well, I guess it's misting. Whatever—the gray has arrived.
I'm standing in the backyard and Ava's galloping toward me. There's a red, rubber frisbee flopping between her teeth in rhythm with her ears. She's still a good 20 yards away from me, but I can tell she's smiling. It's in her body language and the angle of her head. It's pointing upward, as if with pride, and her normal sprint is a more relaxed jaunt.
I have to go back to work in a minute, but I'm glad we popped outside for a few minutes to do this. We almost didn't. I mean, it's objectively not nice out right now. They're saying it's snow up high, but I'm not convinced.
Ava arrives at my feet.
Plopping to the ground with a thud, she clamps both paws around the frisbee—which folds like a taco—and begins chewing. After a couple seconds, she stops. Shuffling backward in a reverse army-crawl, she distances herself from the frisbee and looks up at me. She's ready, waiting.
Ava loves this; rain or shine, gray or blue.
And I love that.
* * *
What's something small that made your day better?
onward.
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