Dancing with Dogs

Before I left on the road trip last week I downloaded some new tunes to my MP3 in case the book tape was a dud idea.  It wasn't, and I spent all those hours in the car happily listening to someone read me a book as I cruised up and down the highway.

This morning I tossed the player in my coat pocket to listen to those new tunes as the boys and I did our mileage on a foggy, cold walk.  I get all plugged into the music, but it's too loud--front row next to the giant speakers at a Stones concert loud--and  while struggling with two dogs on leash and the tiny buttons on the player, I somehow did something wrong and wiped out every song/album/artist on the freaking machine.  Crap.

Later, back home, I reload the player, song by song.  And figure out how to lower the volume without another wipeout situation.

So, headphones on, player set for Jace Everett, I hit the button and whoa--music, smokin' music, deep, throaty voice in my ear music. 

Before I even realize it, I'm dancing.  The dogs are watching me, heads tipped, ears swiveling like little satellite dishes.  The music is so foot-tapping, get up and dance, that there's just no way in the world to sit still. 

When I get to the second song, one that I know, I'm not only dancing, but singing.  The dogs actually look over at each other, then back at me like maybe I need an intervention.  I laugh, then dance down the hallway, into the bedroom, out again, into the living room, dining room, the den.  When I come back into the living room, both dogs are off the couch, sitting in the middle of the floor, tails sweeping across the carpet.  I keep dancing, though now I've got them following me from room to room, big cheesy dog grins as they decide this must be a fun, though slightly crazy, new game.

The fourth song is slow; I feel silly dancing by myself to a slow song.  I get the dogs all worked up instead so when the next tune comes on, we're dancing, barking and singing from one end of the house to the other.

By the time the album is finished, I'm sweating, grinning from ear to ear, the dogs are sprawled with tongues lolling, and I figure I can skip the yoga today.  I've just done my daily torture, and thanks to Jace and his oh-so-wonderful music, it wasn't torture at all, but a sweet little slice of heaven.