Zumba

If I ever get a dog again, I'm going to name it Zumba. It's going to be big, but gentle and frisky, the kind of dog that exhausts itself wagging it's tail in joy whenever he sees me. He'll be suave and cool, and move with an elegant grace and self-awareness: "I'm a DOG, I'm smooth, I'm hot, you want me you little silly puppy dogs with your yappy voices." But he'll also be fun fun fun, running in excited circles when he sees his leash come off the hook. Unable to control himself, he'll leap down the steps and out the door. He'll stop and turn for the briefest moment.... "Come on! Come on! Let's go go go!".

You wish you could be more like him. Completely secure, absolutely free, eager to see the world and claim some corners of it. Everything he's seen before is new, and the old smells are just as intriguing as they were 100 sniffs ago. He has the gift of being charmed by the ordinary, as if his memory were erased every night and this grass under his feet is truly the finest thing he's ever seen.

He's samba, rumba, cha cha, merengue, hip hop, funk and African dance --- all rolled up into one big dog shape that quivers and smiles and drools and leaps all over himself.

He doesn't know how happy he is, but I do.