The Puppy Who Flew

College and graduate school were behind me. Boxes were unpacked in my new house. My thoughts had turned to the dog I'd long wanted. I had grown up with animal companions, but for years had had to make do with pet sitting for friends and walking dogs at animal shelters. A life spent living in dorms, then apartments, is not a life that accommodates a dog.

I was in Atlanta, having flown to the city to give a talk at a convention. Atlanta was also the home of close friends and I was standing in their home, looking down at one of the Rottweiler puppies their bitch had whelped while the puppy looked up at me. My friends and I discussed the puppy over the two days of my visit. I gave my talk. And flew back to my new home in Massachusetts with my new puppy, Otto, tucked into his pet carrier that I stowed under the seat in front of me.

Some months later during the night, snow fell for the first time that year while Otto slept in his crate in the house. In the morning it was time to go outside. I walked through the three-season porch to the yard, left the door open, and took the few steps down to the lawn. I turned around and called, Let's go, Otto!

My puppy turned and ran towards me. Otto leaped off the deck and as he did so, saw snow for the first time in his life. A look of astonishment, then terror, crossed his face as he saw the lawn was a color he'd never before seen on the ground. Flailing his legs, Otto tried to fly. He tried to hang in the air as long as he could to avoid landing on the lawn that had, overnight, become alien.

Otto fell to the grass with a thud, then sprang to his feet. He leaped about, jerking his paws up from the cold snow underfoot. As I watched, his fright turned to delight. He started to bite at the snow and run around, doing zoomies and making snow angels. I made snowballs and threw them for my puppy, laughing and egging my Otto on.