Mom always says she wants to come back as one of my dogs. Today I wondered if someone didn't get that wish.
I was burning a bunch of cardboard boxes in the backyard (toilets and lamps and toasters, oh my!) and since it was so nice out, I braced open the back door and let the dogs out. Missy came out and chased the flying paper bits from the fire and pawed them to bits when they landed. I've seen her do that before when she was younger and chalked it up to play.
"Aww, hers my little firefighter! You fight that fire! Beats it up!"
But Missy has gotten older and learned to conserve her energy. After the paper bits stopped flying, she sat by the fire and just stared at it while I trimmed bushes and dragged over branches. She didn't even want to leave to go visit a neighbor dog, even though we were only fifty feet away.
When the fire started to smolder, Missy walked around the edge, found coals, and dug them into the yard, growling.
Just when I'm at the point that this is a little beyond instinct, I grab the hose to douse the ashes before I go inside. The second I start dragging the hose towards the burn pile, Missy retreats to the porch. She doesn't go inside, she just retreats the porch. Bear, who is usually right by my side, has already gone back into the house. I hose down the ashes, then walk back towards the house. I say: The fire is out, Missy.
She BOUNDS back into the house, tail wagging madly. She runs over and starts chowing down on her soft food like she was starving. Mind you, the door has been wide open for three hours. After she stuffs her face, she finds the nearest dog bed and curls up on it.
And I'm just staring at her, like: Who did you used to be?