Playful

I walk in from Karate and Orion lazily stands up from an afternoon of napping. I am full of energy, so I bound over and open his crate with enthusiasm. "Yeah Orion! How goes it, Orion?!" I exclaim. I quickly loop his collar around his neck and out we go to the front of the apartment. Orion is learning how to go downstairs--a slow tedious process that I swear half way explains my stiff neck. On one stunning occasion, Orion decided to design a new way of getting to the bottom--a flying leap into the bush beside the stairwell.
"ORION!" I shouted, trying to resist the urge to pull on the leash and potentially strangle the pup as he slid to the bottom of the bush.
But on the stoop we stand, myself in my gee, him in his dirty collar, and he mosies down the steps in his classic sideways shuffle--two feet down, turn, two feet follow (same step).
Back in the house, we run around, I toss balls, I pull ropes, and then we bounce on the bed. Orion's little body goes up, goes down, I go up, I go down, he is not sure if he should cling to the blankets for life, or leap and chew my face off.
The phone rings in the front living room. By this time, my gee is off as I am adjusting to my "going out clothes" presently, my undies and snazzy bra. I scoop Orion up, all full of gusto, drop him to the floor, and tear off down the hall, little yellow dog hot on my heels.
Laughing, I reach the phone out of breath and tear back the other way to the safety of my bed where the neighbors won't have a free show and I will be safe from the needle teeth so closely pursuing.
My dog prances after me, leaping for the bed, unsatisfactorily landing with paws on the edge.
I giggle a childish giggle having made it without getting chewed, capturing the flag, and making it back across the line, and happily slide the talk button to on.