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MODELING WITH MISTER
My dog Mister is a real riot. He’s friendly, loving, optimistic, energetic, sensitive. He always wants to be where you are, which means he will follow me around the house as I tote laundry baskets up and down 3 flights of stairs - nearly knocking me off balance all the way. He will get comfortable in the living room, only to discover I just came downstairs for my handbag and then follow me back up to my bedroom. Every time I pull on my coat he stands in a stance of anticipation; legs slightly spread, head tilted, ears lifted. You can just hear him wondering, “Is she taking me for a walk?” We spell the word walk in my household when it doesn’t pertain to him. God forbid he hears it and misinterprets the intent behind it. Should that happen, we are stuck with a leaping, bounding, tail flapping, tongue flailing dog who tears back and forth across the main floor and continually looks at his leash on the brass duck head that serves as a hook by the front door. Then you have to take him. Otherwise you just feel too guilty.
Today was the first chance I’ve had to model in a while. Although there was still snow on the ground, it was mild (40 degrees), the sun was shining, the pickup truck was in the drive behind the fence. (This is important). I was psyched. I had a pile of newly acquired vintage clothes to model, the day off from work, my mother handy to act as photographer. After spending a half hour on makeup and hair so I’d be just perfect in the pics, the photography began.
Pose one: Just as my mother is about to snap the shot of me in a ’70s faux denim mini and cable knit cardigan, Mister stands alongside next to me and looks over. It’s perfect! We couldn’t have planned it better. What a cute little side kick model! I take off my sweater and lean over to give him a pat on the head. Crash! He nudges his wet nose across my cheek, possibly smearing my makeup in the process. I giggle. He’s too much.
Changing outfits inside, I slip out the side door and go to resume my spot in front of the pickup truck. But Mister won’t move. ”Mist! Shoo!” Nothing. Fine - let’s incorporate him in the shot. Next outfit. He collapses on my foot. ”Mister!” my mom laughingly reprimands him. ”I can’t get a good shot of the pants!”
And so the afternoon went. My big Bernese Mountain dog mutt kept getting in the way and stealing the show. But although he slowed our work down, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to banish him inside or away from the fun. He’s just too sweet. Every pat on his head was rewarded with a wet kiss. Every scratch of the back with a rub of his head on your thigh. What a cutie! And, my mother and I laughed and talked more than we would have if he hadn’t been there. Leave it to a dog to bring a family and co-workers closer together. Yay for dogs, truly man’s best friend.
