This little creature that sleeps in her bed in my bed has already learned what to do when her human says, "Get in your bed."  

She goes into the bed where she curls up like a fawn and the bed-from-Amazon I stuffed yesterday fits just right, wrapping around her.  When I move or get up for a drink, she lifts her head and looks at me: are we going anywhere or is this still the night-time when we sleep?  

In the daytime, she never growls and seldom barks, but during sleep she sometimes makes a gentle growling sound.  She is dreaming maybe of being bigger, braver, scarier?  Some intruder bounds into her dreams and she vanquishes it.

I went for a pedicure today.  She wedged herself between the two legs of my lap and sat there watching.  People talked about her, asked her name.  When they said "Luci," she looked at them: "You mean me? Me? That's me, Luci!"  

We humans use so many words, yet a wordless puppy commands everyone's attention. I keep thinking of the radiant face of the baby in the Apple Store, laughing out loud just looking at her, and the old man on a cane who reached his hand down to pet her but couldn't bend that low.  Usually Luci jumps on the legs of anyone who greets her as he did, but she sensed that he was fragile.  Instead of jumping, she licked his shoes.  

"My dogs would never sit still like that," says a big macho man getting a pedicure. "They would be barking and running around everywhere." 

She shows that calm side to strangers, but I know there's a race-dog under the calm demeanor and that no one in the room could catch her if she showed them that side of her.

Today, I have talked to people who have taken our their phones and shown me: A German Shepherd, a Husky mix, three rescued mutts, one of whom was dressed up like a mail carrier for a postal worker's retirement party.  When Luci sniffs their shoes, they say--every one of them, "She smells my dog" and then I ask them about their dogs and they tell me all about them just as I'm telling you about Luci.  Even the workers at the Apple Store and UPS, where I shipped back my old computer, say, "Oh, Hello, Puppy!" or "What a sweetie!" 

These past 15 months have had an impact on all of us humans and we're still not entirely sure what the new rules of the road are.  Is it because of our months of isolation that we're so drawn to animals (who don't know a thing about COVID)  who don't hesitate to greet us and give us a lick or a jump or a wag of affection?