She is strictly diurnal. That is, she wakes with the sun (in the summer, this means about 5 am, but at this time of year, it's not bad) and, when night falls, she becomes almost too sleepy to move. Every night, she tucks herself into her crate when we go to bed. Then, about four or five hours later, she gets out, paws clicking on the hardwood floors, and leaps into our bed. This is always very sweet at first -- she curls up very tightly into a little ball, conveniently placed -- and then, as the night goes on, becomes painful and intolerable by varying degrees. Generally, I end up clinging with both hands to stop myself from falling off the three inches of remaining bed, with my back cricked at some impossible angle and one of Maya's many elbows jammed into someplace soft.
Maya weighs 68 lbs when awake, but at night she seems to somehow triple this. But I love that she sleeps so soundly, that she patently adores sharing a bed (or tent) with us, and that every morning she is ready to go go go.
She is a good watchdog. Actually, this is something I often think of as a flaw. Maya watches out for everything, without regard to whether I think it may be dangerous (sound of large truck, bark bark bark. Neighbor raking his leaves, bark bark bark). But when we go camping, this combines with the first trait I mentioned to make for very secure nights. I go to sleep without listening for marauding bears or nibbling mice, completely certain that Maya will let me know if some critter comes too close. And, because she is so sleepy at night, she only wakes up for the important stuff.
She is a great lapdog. I know, not everyone wants a 68 lb lapdog, but mine is awfully comfortable. We recently bought two reclining armchairs from which to watch television or read in the evenings, thinking Maya would enjoy having the whole futon to herself. Ha. She spends all evening waiting for one of us to stand up, then steals the chair. When we are both sitting, she comes over and indicates a certain willingness to snuggle, then I pick her up and put her on my lap. Surprisingly, it really is comfortable.
She laughs a lot. Maya is an intense dog, and sometimes she is just intensely happy. It's infectious.
She is self-cleaning. I know many people bathe and/or groom their dogs. I am not one of those people. Maya has a coat that does not collect dirt, snow, or burrs, and she does not roll in things. Her natural smell is deeply, aromatically, pleasant to me -- she smells of forests, warm earth, pine nuts, and suede. She also grooms herself meticulously, licking every bit that she can reach and especially taking good care of her paws. Really, there just isn't much for me to add.
She loves hiking, camping, being together, and playing games. If only she also loved good books, politics, and beer, we'd have almost exactly the same interests in life.
