As I walked into the living room of our house, I saw this chair that my husband had set out from the rest of the furniture, bound for bulk trash pick-up in a week. It is one of those low to the ground, faded and worn fabric-covered, overstuffed chairs, the kind that everyone likes to sink into and just sigh. It was so worn that we now sunk too far for our comfort, but apparently, not for our dog’s comfort. Vega saw the chair, jumped into it, turned around, lay down, and sighed ~ pretty much what her humans had been doing for years with this chair ~ and I instantly flashed back to all our Aussies over the years, each one with their own special “chair.” 

              Reba’s chair was a light blue rocker, fabric-covered and low to the ground. It had been my great uncle Ercole’s chair. Tia’s chair had been a burnished gold, fabric-covered chair. It had come to me from my Nonna and Nonno’s house, purchased I’ve no clue when but at least 50 years old. Hannah and Ellie had shared a 19^th century love seat that my first husband and I had found in an Estate sale in Maryland 30 years ago. Suryna didn’t have her own “chair.” She either commandeered one of the other dog’s chairs or she sat on whatever I was sitting on, but she was the only one out of over 15 dogs that was comfortable where ever I was.

              If I over-think this, as I tend to do when I’m on the trail of symbolism, I see our Aussies merging our past with what was then our present. Vega continues the symbolism ~ past merged with present, leading to the future ~ and it all makes me smile.