Baxter Gets A Sock

I have given Baxter a sock. Two socks, actually, and you'd think he has struck gold. When Baxter gets anything, or takes anything, he runs straight to his bed where he hoards his toys and sticks and odd finds. He's like the magpie of dogs.

While I was folding laundry this afternoon, I had set aside a pair of worn socks to throw away, but then I balled them up and tossed them into the kitchen instead. And I watched as the puppy darted for the flying socks, snatched them up and ran straight for his bed. He's been gnawing on them since, because fabric seems to be a comfort to his teething gums, and I think he thinks he has something he's not supposed to have.

It just goes to show that one man's useless socks—with frayed elastic, a hole in the toe and thin at the heals—is one dog's treasure of the day. You look at your stuff and sort it as "keep" or "throw away," but sometimes "give to someone else" is the better option. What appears to be garbage to some is a great find for others. I suppose that's the beauty of flea markets, like the one my neighbor runs in her front yard from time to time, with colorful flags marking her driveway and signs pointing the way at each intersection. It only looks as if she's thrown a heap of trash in her yard, but in reality she's selling treats. This is the same woman who has hung a chandelier from the hay loft in her barn, and at night, it lights up the window with unexpected charm; so she knows a good treat when she finds one.

It only looks like I've thrown crap at my dog, but in reality I've given him a toy. Seeing Baxter with his socks reminds me of this: