Basketball

Mica and I took the little white dog to the dog park this afternoon. The small-dog side was empty, as it usually is this time of year, so we went in with the big dogs. There were a few labs, a couple of standard poodles, an adorable and sweet Irish setter mix, and then there was a bulldog and a husky. All was fine at first, then the bulldog decided she didn’t like the little white dog. Things went downhill quickly with the husky and a third dog piling on. Little white dog swiveled on the bulldog. Teeth were bared, growling followed, and in the smoothest move I’ve ever seen, Mica swooped in and scooped the little white dog into her arms. As she was holding him, the bulldog tried to jump up and grab paws. I moved between them as best I could, and we headed for the gate.

We hung out in the small-dog side for a while, hoping someone would show up and join us. No joy, but the little white dog was fine having the space to himself. He explored and sniffed, and I chased him a little bit. He was tired out by the time we left.

It would have been ideal if Eve could have brought Izzy out, but Izzy was spayed yesterday and is recovering.

I cut time too close and had to double-time through the shower and the rest of the getting ready routine. I wasn’t quite finished when Blaine came by to pick me up. All I needed to do was put the other earring in, slip on shoes and turn off the radio I listen to in the bathroom.

“Country?” Blaine commented when the radio went off. He was hanging out in the dining room.

“Occasionally. Only if it’s early ‘90s or before though.”

He stepped toward me, deftly positioning an arm around my back, a hand into my hand, and legs in such a way that feet can easily follow. “Do you dance?”

“Not at all, and yet I’m suddenly warming to the idea.”

Turns out that with only minor adjustments a dancing position can transition into activity that doesn’t require music.

Blaine wasn’t interested in being part of the crowd at [sports bar] and didn’t want to bother with a watch party, so the plan became to watch both basketball games at Paul and Eve’s where they could keep an eye on Izzy.

We stopped at a restaurant and picked up an assortment of wings and spinach artichoke dip. I’d like to think Izzy was really happy to see me again, but I’m pretty sure it was the sack of food that set the paws dancing and the tail wagging.

Anticipating that Blaine and I were going to the couch in the loft, Izzy climbed up and settled in the middle. She alternated who she stared and whined at, but before long she settled down and fell asleep with her long nose on top of my leg. She’s gaining serious real estate in my heart.

I thought I’d be grateful to have her as a distraction from boredom, but I found that basketball isn’t too bad to watch. The games do go fast. It’s easy enough to follow.

At halftime of the Loyola/Michigan game, I went into the bathroom. Izzy followed and was waiting for me when I came out. She trotted ahead of me toward the family room but stopped cold when she got to the couch. Blaine had stacked throw pillows on the center cushion. Izzy burrowed her nose beneath them to knock them out of her way. His arm held them in place. “Sorry, Izz. Your spot is over here.” He patted the far cushion. She tipped her head back and whined, then barked. Eve squeaked a toy to get her attention, and I picked up the cushions and sat down. Izzy came back over to bark her displeasure at me. I leaned forward to pet her, and Blaine put his palm on my back, a quick rub with his thumb. I barely registered it until I glanced at Eve as I sat up and saw her expression… While I can still picture it, I can’t yet describe it. Surprised, yes, but something else too.

As for the games, I was hoping Loyola would win since they’ve had such an amazing and unexpected run, and Blaine is a longtime Kansas fan so he was pretty disappointed in the way that game went. I gave his knee a squeeze at the buzzer and said the words that kept Cubs fans going for decades, “There’s always next year.”