He’s not the first Big Tay. And not nearly as Big as the First Big Tay. But he’s nicely sizeable, and he arrived with Taylor on his muzzle, so he was going to be a Tay of some size anyway. Might as well be a Big one.
The First Big Tay was Taygur. A monstrous big lad with the temper of a kitten. A lovely shiny black boy with a beautiful face and a “lightness” in his step. The very top of his head snugged right up into my armpit, and it snugged there quite a lot. “BIG TAY!!” and there he’d be, resting his lovely face where nobody really wants to go. (Dogs apparently don’t care a whit about armpit smells…. or they like them.) The day I met him, I noted that he was in a top crate. At the very same time I noted the incredible bulk of him. Honey, if you don’t jump into that bed, we’re gonna have us a Big Trouble. (That’s Trouble with a capital Tay, you know.) And I watched him at turnout, how he towered over all the rest of the boys. Made ’em all look puny, he did. But for all his enormous size, he was a sweet and charming young man. There was never a flare of temper, not a smidge of aggression. And when it was time to go to bed, he hopped ever so nimbly into his upper bunk.
I was in love.
The days, the weeks, they came and went, and our love together grew. Offering him a cookie sent him into Terrier spins. Seeing that much dog do that much spinning… hey, it’s something close to a miracle. He did the I Love You gaze, peeking out from under my arm. I could smooch the top of his head without even having to bend over hardly. And the day that one of the Bad Boys got into a scuffle with him, I raged into that yard to end the battle. I do it for anybody, but this was My Darling. Ya doesn’t mess with my Tay. The Bad Boy was properly scolded. A quick exam showed a little scrape under Tays arm. No other damage. But that scrape pissed me off, and the Bad Boy was shunned for life.
Ok, not as bad as all that. I still loved the Bad Boy too….. but ya doesn’t mess with my Tay.
On a crisp and sunny afternoon, with the radio on and the doggies outside, there came a familiar rhythm, a toe-tapping just plain feel good melody from Abba, and I went out with my dogs to dance.
Girls first. “If you change your mind, I’ll be first in line. Honey I’m still free, take a chance on me.” We skipped and played and the girls are very good dancers! Oh, what beautiful girlies, dancing in the bright sunshine! And I left the girls behind to go dance with my boys.
“And you know I’ve got, so much that I wanna do, when I dream I’m alone with you, it’s magic!” I skipped about with my boys, arms outstretched, and there under one of them… was my Big Tay. Skipping. Prancing. Great big monstrous boy. Dancing.
It was hard to leave that kennel. And I never ever forgot Big Tay.
I don’t expect quite so much from the new one. He’s a youngster and utterly mannerless, but I do still like ’em that way. Big and dumb, yessiree, those are my favorites. So far, he knows that he’s Big Tay. And… well that’s really about all he knows. But for all his bulk, he’s a mild mannered young man. A lovely shiny black boy with a beautiful face and a “lightness” in his step. A dancer? Oh maybe. I hope so.
I always love a dancer.