Confession time: I love all the dogs of San Francisco, but I do have some favorites. Max (4 years old, and border collie/Australian shepherd is an educated guess) is one of them. I could give you a dozen reasons — happy disposition, big smile, ridiculous airplane ears, gorgeous coloration, NOSE FRECKLES! — but the fact is, Max and I totally hit it off the first time we met. I saw him, and he looked over at me and wasn’t quite sure what to make of me. So I leaned down and jumped around and tried to get him to chase me and generally acted like a lunatic (or a dog who wanted to play) and his eyes just lit up.
And now I run into him every few days in the park I jog through on my way to work. And every time he sees me coming he runs over, leans against my leg, and makes the most ridiculous happy whining and whimpering sounds and wags his tail and wiggles his body and just generally acts like he can’t contain his happiness. His mom says he doesn’t do that for any of the other dog park regulars, just me.
If there’s a better way to start the day, I sure haven’t found it.