Okay Ms Millie, something has to give: I can take you outside to your little yard and I can work there while you gently play. But you cannot run like a dog possessed, and you cannot bark continuously every time a grass blade moves or a butterfly goes by. Or, you can stay in your crate for three hours, like you used to do, and I can get stuff done then, but that means no howling as if I was torturing you to death so that the neighbors would surely call Animal Rescue to, well, rescue you. Or, we can stay mostly inside (such gorgeous weather we're having this week!), but after I've given you your puzzle toy and you finished fishing out all the treats in it, you really have to amuse yourself in ways other than going upstairs to see what damage you could do there, behind my back. Or, you can decide that being 8 months old now, you are are going to act like a fully grown dog and not like an adolescent out to conquer the world with her newly acquired wisdom (which, may I remind you, isn't fully there yet, but you could try harder to reach for it this week when it's just you and me here at Steffi's House).
While we're on the subject of wisdom, let me remind you of the things you cannot do. You once knew all this quite well. Am I to assume you've forgotten? That the anesthesia brought about amnesia? Well now, here's my gentle reminder: no scratching madly at the couch cushions or the reading chair cushions. No nibbling on the rug edges. No going upstairs to relieve yourself. No taking off all the tags you can find -- pillows, cushions, anything. They're not digestible. And anyway, I dont want to find shreds of "100% cotton" around the house. No pulling at the threads of the brand new bath mat. The hole you made in it? Highly unattractive. When you're outside, do not look for wood chips. I know you're capable of finding them. I know that. But chewing on them is a real no-no. And dont dig little holes all over the yard. Dont eat the dirt that has fish emulsion sprinkled on it. And if I am using the hose, for darn's sake, do not bite on it because once you spring a leak, I may as well toss it out.
Should I continue?
Basically, Millie either needs to return to doggie day care or have her play at the dog park. (Which she cannot do or else dire things may happen in her abdomen.) She is a wildly energetic girl and doubling the Trazadone did nothing to calm her down. She wants to play, she needs to play. Or go for long runs. Or something.
We did have a lovely breakfast outside. It was so cool this morning that I wore a sweatshirt!
Immediately after I went out to Millie's yard to put in two roses and to remove all those pebbles I had put down around the plants. I had intended to also plant some perennials in the nearby fields, but Millie was so vocal this morning that I gave up on that idea. I dont yet have a neighbor on the other side of the fence to disturb, but I got very tired of saying "Millie, quiet. Good girl, quiet girl. No, don't bark at my sweatshirt, quiet! Good girl, quiet girl. No, dont sound off at the child on the bicycle five blocks away..." etc.
Because I knew she needed a nap, we went inside and I crated her. I needed to go to the dumpster again and to pick up dirt at the farmette. Which, by the way, is in full bloom.
(I cleaned up a few of the spent lilies... couldn't help myself...)
(I pull out a few lily stems for Steffi's kitchen.)
I also picked up a lilac bush at K&A. This makes little sense as my focus has been on roses and finding a grand place for this "New Age" lilac (it's not going to be huge) is going to take some landscaping ingenuity. And a new hole will have to be dug out for it. Having labored over digging one out just this morning, I do not look forward to a repetition of whacking away at clay and stone. Still, the lilac went into my car, only adding to my stress about time that I do not have for planting. It will be beautiful next string and it is powdery mildew resistant (hence the "new agedness"), but still, when will I have a day for planting?
I have to wonder what working folks do. Millie has me housebound. Inconvenient but doable. Most people dont have that luxury.
In the afternoon, I open the front door to the porch and try to do some work just outside, where she can see me.
And then I pick up this child, who is pretty much my height, so calling her a child seems so... wrong. And yet...
("what are you reading?")
And then I return to my adolescent Millie, who certainly is behaving like a child these days. She's allowed. She's cycling through the canine growth stages. I'll probably survive!
with so much love...
