They say owning a dog is supposed to be good for one’s blood pressure, but sometimes I wonder.
He lies around in the heat of the day, manufacturing cuteness. He’s all soft and loveable… and then you go to snuggle him and he squirms and wriggles and grunts and nibbles. That may be a small mouth but he demolished the bone from a roast leg of lamb in about an hour the other night – there were mere shards left of it!
He’s made friends with the Scottie dog next door. When the neighbour lets him out for a tinkle – for that one is an “inside” dog – the two fluff-balls chase each other up and down on either side of the fence. Only… I just caught my little angel having almost dug his way all the way under to get to the other side, and I only heard him digging for about a minute before I went to investigate the odd noise! He’s quick, I’ll give him that.
We’ve tried to teach him to play “fetch” with the ball. He finally got the hang of it; the whole bring-the-ball-back-when-we-throw-it thing. Only… when he gets tired (after about 3 throws) he waits for us to throw the ball, runs after it, picks it up, looks at us, spits it out and then trots back to us without it. I guess he figures if he brings it back we’ll just go make him fetch it again, and he’s having none of that!
He seems a little low on stamina, you see. He’s been known to simply flop down in the middle of the path while out on a walk. No warning, just flump, that’s it, I’m tired, not taking another step. Actually left a little dog-shaped stripe in the dirt one day where I accidentally dragged him a couple of paces before realising he was lying down. Passing motorists must’ve had a good laugh at the sight of me taking my dog for a drag.
But at least he comes when we call, right?
Well he does… when he feels like it, mostly. Or when there’s food involved. Or if we put on our Walking Shoes. This we have to do in the bedroom (he’s not allowed in there) because if we try to do this in his presence he does his best to help. It’s quite difficult to tie one’s shoelaces with a small dog hanging onto the end of them, puffing and whining all the way.
Speaking of whining… did I mention he sings to the Ambulances? We hear the sirens fairly regularly where we live and if he’s alone outside it’s like the Call of the Wild; a couple of barks and then the yodeling begins: “Aaaoooooww! Aaaoooooww! Aaaaoooooww!” It sounds heartbreaking, although afterwards he looks no worse for wear, in fact he looks at us as though we’re a little mad for making such a fuss over him which, of course, we can’t help…
because he’s just so. darn. cute!