Me: She didn’t. She went to see her niece graduate from vet school. She’s going to be a puppy doctor and we’re very proud of her.
Dog: Mommy’s gonna be a puppy doctor
MaeMae (cat): no, ding dong. Her niece is a veterinarian. When would the stay at home can opener have time for vet school?
Dog: why she no love me anymore
MaeMae: because you’re…
Me: MAEMAE!! She loves you endlessly, but she wanted to be with her family. You know you go to the kennel to stay sometimes and have tons of fun? Then you come home and are happy?
Dog: what that got to do with anything
MaeMae, sighing: you’re fighting a losing battle…
I was/am more anxious about being alone (yeah, yeah, I know Granny and the Boy are here, but we see the lad about an hour a day max and the pupper jumps on Granny almost the same way she does MaeMae. It’s dangerous and I’m not having it.) with the dog than I was with the children when they were young.
It’s not helping any I have a wicked cold and am feeling kinda rank. (Beloved, if you’re reading this: NO GUILT. I’d’a been sick either way.)
So, to try to keep things as normal as possible for el perro, I took a couple hours off work Friday morning to take her to our local group’s Friday outing.
I find that a bit intimidating because I can’t seem to get things right. Beloved is so self-assured and competent (as she is with 99% of sports) and me? Anything requiring physical coordination is generally beyond my capabilities.
We made it to Friday Fun with plenty of time to spare, so I was careful to make sure I had her on a loose leash and when she pulled, I stopped walking, as per the instructions. I got her vest and Halti on but damn me, that dog STILL pulled like heck.
If you’re not familiar with a Halti (or Gentle Leader), it is NOT a muzzle. It applies gentle pressure if the dog pulls, veers sharply to the right or left, or jumps.
The rest of the group (eight other dogs) were well over to the meeting point while I was still struggling every couple of steps having to stop and redirect her. Resigned to my fate, we went very, veeeeeeery slowly.
“So…” said one of the group leaders, “you may find it easier if you attach the leash to the Halti.”
What? Oh, hell.
It was a “scavenger hunt” day, which means the dogs and their handlers needed to find various spots in the park and take a snap of the pup next to whatever… red flowers, a place where the mulch, grass and gravel meet, the sign for the butterfly garden, at the 7th gavion…
I was raised in a family where advanced vocabulary skills were expected and there was no shame in asking what a word meant, so…
Me: What’s a gavion?
Group leader: Ah… I thought of anyone, you would know that.
Me: nope, but I can find out. Hey, Siri, what’s a gavion?
Siri: It’s an imperial unit of measure equivalent to 64 fluid ounces. Only the United States, Liberia and Myanmar remain on this antiquated system. Modern countries use …
Me: HEY! Okay, I asked for gavion not gallon and knock off insulting a system used effectively for centuries!
Siri snorted.
Is Siri rude to everyone or is it just me?
So if you’re interested, a gavion is a wire enclosure that holds rocks in the shape of a wall or other sculptures. Dr. Google stepped in where Siri failed to deliver.
Off we went.
A couple of the puppies were weirded out by the merry-go-round, as was I. I remember them as insanely dangerous:
This brand-new park, however, has one that’s flush with the ground and I’m sure has some kind of control to keep it from moving too quickly, and to prevent various limbs from rapid amputation.
We also worked on a group picture with most of the puppies standing on a rock formation.
Little devils, I don’t know if you played “King of the Castle” as a child – I sure did – the kid standing at the top of whatever (in our case, hay bales) would shout “I’m the King of the Castle”. The other children would try to shove him off, shouting “get down, you dirty rascal!” and it would repeat as long as the kids could stand it or until someone wound up crying.
The rest of the day, the pup just wanted to know where mom was. I oofed her off the bed when she tried to convince me she should sleep in Beloved’s spot and she did as she does lately… she tells us when she’s ready to be tucked in for bed.
Loud woofs as I was drifting off. I staggered outta bed (this is usually Beloved’s task as I like to sleep a lot earlier than she does), R climbed into her crate, turned around twice and was like “Close the door already!”
Okey dokey.
About midnight I woke up to loud barking.
Dog: Lemme out Lemme out
Me, dazed: What? What??
Dog: Lemme out Mommy’s home Mommy’s home
Me (opening the crate door): um, no, she’s not… you need to pee?
Dog, flinging herself down the stairs: Mommymommymommymommymymommymommymommy
She braked hard as she got to the gate blocking her off from the steps leading to Granny’s suite.
Dog, scowling: What the hell man Mommy’s not here
Me: I tried to tell you… she’s not here. She’ll be home Sunday.
The dog looked stricken.
Me: hey, it’s not so bad… it’s a day and a half. One more full sleep.
MaeMae: uh, huh. A day and a half… 36 hours… a hundred twenty nine thousand, six hundred minutes, but hey, it’ll go quick!
Dog: hun-hun-hun-nud twenty th-th-thousand (wail) that’s forever
Oh my god. Seriously, cat?
Cat: Not my fault if she failed algebra. Hell, she couldn’t deal with basic multiplication.
One more day to go…
Examining Misadventures 