Our little cocker spaniel Goldie is now 8 and a half years old. The day we brought her home, she weighed about five pounds. We put her on the floor of the living room, she nosed out one of the cats' toys—a small yellow ball—and dropped it in my lap.
I rolled it into the kitchen. She chased and retrieved and we've been playing together ever since.
To Goldie, play is the serious stuff of life. Nothing else ever takes top place in her agenda. She chases sticks year-round, snowballs in winter, water droplets from the river in summer, and this time of year, it's playing in piles of leaves.
Photo 1: Notice the concentration. She's on one side of a small pile of leaves under an ash tree in our front yard. She is zeroed in on my foot, waiting for the kickoff that signals the start of play.
Photo 2: The kickoff and the play. (Note booted foot in bottom right corner and jumping dog in top left.)
Photo 3: It's back to earth and circling around to get ready for the next kick.
We've always enjoyed Goldie's intensity as much as her goofiness. She's a potent, daily reminder of the fact that fun is equally important as work. And really, if you get right down to it, they should be the same thing.
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