(pictured l to r front: Kenya seated left, then Gracie who's just visiting and standing just left and behind Ridge, then Ridge seated front, Pinot seated right; and in far rear, Elsie)
These next shots are a just a variety of action shots from this morning (again, the lighter, wider, longer-haired-though-she's-been-shaved Golden Retriever is my sister's dog, Gracie; the rest are our gang):
Then we came in, and I needed to get some work done, so I set myself up on my laptop in the kitchen, sat down at the kitchen table, and turned on the TV for background noise (the dogs seem to settle more when the TV is on... I'm not sure why that is).
Of course, while I worked, I enjoyed my usual companions nearby (didn't want to crate them as they'd been crated all morning).
This morning, instead of dispersing between the kitchen, family room, and kennel room, however, they all seemed to want to be close (sorry, no picture of the following): Elsie leaned her whole weight against my right leg and thigh (remember I'm seated at the kitchen table); Pinot (yes, PINOT), sat and plunked her head (it's full weight) oh my left thigh; Tuc sprawled under my chair like usual; Kenya put her wiggly self right up against Pinot and the table leg, and Gracie (my sister's Golden Retriever who is staying with us while DS is in CO) plopped down on top of my right foot.
So that's the image: me buried in canine buddies (Ridge, our official couch potato since Baxter left, was snoozing on the loveseat in front of the TV with his head resting on the sofa's arm, just like the Boos used to do).
Okay.. so you have the picture?
Now guess what comes on TV?
When I turned the TV on, I apparently tuned in during a commercial break from the movie
Eight Below (the movie tells the true story of sled dogs who, during an emergence evacuation, get left behind in Antarctica during a massive winter storm and are left to survive on their own for something like six months).
When the commercial ended, while I sat among my canine kids, the movie returned to the scene where during white-out conditions one of the sled dogs free-slides over a rocky cliff, and the remaining six dogs run down to check on their injured pack-mate. Of course, they all lie down together with the injured dog (puppy pile!) to ride out the storm. When they awaken, completely buried in the snow, said pack-mate is dead.
The dogs then react: puzzled, grief-stricken, worried, reluctant to leave their friend behind...
The emotion the producers captured in this movie's animals is incredible: concern, compassion, grief, pain, joy, team spirit, servanthood, devotion, courage, internal conflict.... you name it.
So, anyway... here I am, literally knee-deep in the bodies of my canine crew, being loved to pieces by their presence, and this sled dog expires in the snow.
How many times have I seen this movie? (several) How well did I know what was going to happen? (quite well) How deeply did I understand that no dogs were hurt or perished in the making of the movie and that this was truly just a movie? (I understood completely... I hadn't forgotten...I knew all the dogs shown were just fine in real life).
But I still blubbered like a baby.
I mean blubbered. Really blubbered.
Like some emotional valve blew.
So there's Pinot, head on my thigh, looking up at me all worried (she wouldn't leave my side). Elsie starts pawing me. Kenya rolls over and puts her head on my left foot (Gracie had already claimed my right foot).
Tuc just snored.
What is it about dogs and emotions, especially between them and their humans?
There's just something universal about canine faces; their expressions, regardless of breed, capture and communicate feeling far beyond that of spoken language.
And I think that's what made me cry. The sled-dogs' faces in the movie -- their emotions, facial expressions, body language, and communication -- could have been those of my gang here. That could've been MY crew in the snow -- that's how ridiculously well I identified with the emotion in this flick.
Canine faces are just...well...so human. And their depictions of emotion are universal -- across breeds. So we humans react.
I don't get it.
Maybe I'm just hormonal (hehe). But, doggone it, every time I see this movie I cry like a baby.
And then the canine crew gets all worried about me and tries to make me feel better (each in her own way).
I guess we all need a little help from our friends, eh? Even the four-footed kind.
I'm okay now... been slobbered back into reality by zealous canine kisses. :o)
But... man... did that ever catch me off guard!
So how many of YOU can watch
Eight Below without crying?
'Til next time,
Joan
