Sunday

I don't even know what a "normal" Sunday looks like anymore. Early spring Sundays meant, for years and years, garden clean up time. Not this year. And I have to say, though I don't miss it, I don't feel great when I visit the farmette and ignore the weeds, last year's growth, the tubs with dead annuals. I've noticed a swell of irritation as I walk among the flower beds. At no one in particular, though Ed gets to hear it since he's there. Also for many years, Sundays meant dinner prep for the young family. It still means that, but in recent months, I've skipped these more often than not. They're sick, the dog's sick, the weather is lousy, other plans -- you name it. This fall and winter, Sundays meant dog park outings. Well you know how that ended. With a bang. I don't see myself taking Millie to Prairie Morraine -- that huge, beautiful dog park that Henry loved so much. She doesn't need that much exercise and I have a slight fear that she'll be clobbered by uncontrollable big dogs. It's one thing to expose her to them in doggie daycare under the careful supervision of the staff there. It's another to let her loose in a park where any dog can be set free. Too, she tends to pick up things she shouldn't pick up. I can't even count the number of times she has come back from a walk with a food chip or a twig in her mouth. She doesn't need the freedom to pick up anything in an off-leash park. And finally, those parks do present contamination issues. Dogs with parasites. Dogs that are sick. Henry seemed impervious to all that. His immune system had been conditioned by months out on the streets. Millie is far more sensitive to such stuff -- witness her ten days of digestive issues. So, no dog parks. I have to rewrite my Sundays! But not today.

Today is ridiculously cold. At night, we'll have a deep frost -- rare in the second half of April. I'm glad that it's just a few days of this, but I surely am not motivated to do anything adventurous in this weather.

 

Millie and I do start off with what is becoming an established pattern. I get up, she waits, I get ready, then take her out of her crate and we go for our walk. It's short. Because of the weather and because she is more interested in returning home to eat than to walk a mile.

She eats, then plays. I love this wild moment when she is deeply happy. Wild, with total zoomie abandon. Big dog zoomies are... frightening, but Millie is just so darn cute as she runs from one room to the next. (She's way too fast for me to use my camera on her.)

I fix my own meal, take her out quickly again and settle in for my own quiet breakfast. As always, she waits at my feet for me to be done.  

(farmette daffodils)

And right after, we both exhale on the couch.

My newest Sunday activity is to take Millie to puppies agility class. Today is the second of five (or is it six?) classes. 

I have to smile -- it surely is a "be careful what you wish for" situation. I wanted a social pup. One who loves people, other dogs. Millie goes completely overboard on her enthusiasm, not for the class, but for the people who run it, and the dogs who participate. 

Since she is not very treat motivated, getting her to follow my treat filled hand is impossible! Some of the dog parents are dead serious about the class and they remind their pups that this isn't play time, it's time to learn. But when we're in the holding pen waiting our turn, Millie wants to romp, jump, roll with them. And when it's her term to do the jumps, climbs, tunnels, she takes her time, sometimes taking a long pause right in the middle of an exercise. 

I would say that she is the least interested in performing well of all dogs there and perhaps all dogs that have ever taken the agility class! 

 

 

 

She is five months old today and she has lived with me for two weeks and a day. It's not really surprising that she doesn't come when called, doesn't leap on command, doesn't climb out of the tunnel when asked to do so. She is one goofy girl. The class clown, without knowing that she is indeed the class clown.

At home, I just finished an article in the NYTimes, (gifted for you here) titled  In Defense of Dumb Dogs. I thought of some of the dog parents in class today who seemed so hell bent on having their dogs do well. In the article, the author noted that most dog owners think their pooch is above average in intelligence. And I think doodle parents truly do believe their dog is over and beyond intelligent. One reason for mixing retrievers (or other breeds) with poodles is to ostensibly pick up on the poodle intelligence. 

It made me think about Millie: do I care if she is smart or not so smart? Henry was very intelligent and oh so hard to keep busy and stimulated. Perhaps I care that Millie master potty training totally and soon. That she knows I'm her human and will protect her. That she is surrounded by friends. The rest? Nah... She can be joyful ,and bark at her reflection in the window at night, and sit in the agility tunnel all she wants. I don't care who is watching and laughing! 

Oh, but I love that girl!

 

In the evening the young family does come over today. I'm told the kids can't wait -- not to have our meal together, not to play here, not to see me, but to see Millie. The dog who lives for the moment! And she is so happy to see them, to play with them...

 

 

 

She'll let them carry her, even little Sandpiper.

And Goose? Well, I think he misses the big guys. He knows his 100plus pound body could crush the little girl.

So he leaves her alone and finds a comfy spot on the couch.

(dinner)

And where is Ed? The guy has become a pickle ball fanatic. He plays with seniors at the senior center, he plays outside on the courts with the "way younger" set. When he's done for the day, he collapses. I believe he's trying to get past the moderate -intermediate stage. The seniors are not quite intermediate enough, the "way younger" set is a bit past the intermediate stage. We'll see if they can teach that old dog even better tricks! 

In the evening, Millie rests. I should think she needs to recover. It's been a full Sunday.

with so much love...