Maggie the Wirehaired Fox Terrier is my fourth of July pup. And what an appropriate holiday mascot she was. I met her on the Charles, on the docks while I was dipping my toes in the awesomely cool water. I felt like I was doing an aerobics class in hell all day, so just that one refreshing moment would have been enough. But on top of all that, I got to watch fireworks -- and meet Maggie.
Maggie was a pick-me-up all her own. I did literally (pick her up) and she didn't squirm. Instead she just seemed overjoyed at the vivacious spirit of the night and later wagged her tail while trotting the length of the docks. Her dad had to go retrieve her from a friend of mine who she had approached with vim and vigor and a serious tail wag, ready to kiss him all over his face.
My face was painted like a tiger on the 4th (everyone seemed so confused, but really, is it a crime to act like a four year old every once in a while and just pretend you're a safari animal? I think not), so it was pretty funny when Maggie's child owner told me I looked scary. Maggie apparently didn't seem to share the opinion, and we were mutually saddened (ok, maybe me a little more than her) when she had to hop on a boat and leave me all alone and dogless on a national holiday.
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