Penny does Listen, I swear!
. . just not to what I say!
Earlier this morning, Penny and I took a little walk. On this little walk, she listened to me. Now, the details:
The trash bin here at Brett's place is about a half mile up the dirt road that leads to the house, next to the gate so that it can easily be rolled out onto the main road, and I needed some physical activity to interrupt my work at the computer or I was going to EXPLODE, so I decided to take out the trash even though I'd left my keys in Brett's car last night and thus would have to walk.
Now, Penny, the wonderful animal that is Brett's dog and whom I have wholeheartedly adopted as my own, usually does her own thing. There was a time when we just assumed Penny was a cat in a dog's body, or deaf - she never even seemed to HEAR anything we said to her and paid no attention to us whatsoever unless we were busy doing something that in no way required her assistance, some activity that a big, furry, red dog could interrupt by standing there wagging her tail at you or rolling over onto her back in front of your feet.
However! Having spent much more time with said dog, her having lived here for almost a year and a half now and me being around her on a daily basis for the last month or so, I have come to the conclusion that she is actually a most reasonable and quite biddable personage. As with anyone else, you simply have to make sure she understands what you want in addition to convincing her you want her to do it for a reason.
For instance, when we were walking up the dirt road taking out the trash this morning, she was scouting about twenty feet in front of me, like she does, and once we got close to the gate I sensibly wished for her to NOT continue scouting out onto the non-dirt highway just beyond. So I told her to stop right there and wait for me, by god, or I'd have her hide. She did turn around to see what I wanted, bless her heart, but being the sensible thing that she is, she resumed her jog towards the street of doom upon noting that I continued to walk towards her. Why should she stop if I was still walking? After all, it's her DUTY to scout ahead and make sure there aren't any rabbits that need chasing or cows that need barking at up there.
So I laughed at myself for even trying to tell her what to do and very pointedly turned on my heel to walk back towards the house. "Bye, Penny," I said over my should, to get her attention, "I'll miss you!" Shocked that I would think of leaving her, she immediately turned around and after one indignant look trotted right up to my side. Of course, then I had to pet her all the way over to the trash bin and tell her how smart and beautiful she was until I could turn around and sprint like mad back up the road, yelling over my shoulder that she would never catch me in a million years, but that worked too, and it was fun. She happily ran with me partway back to the house, and it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as scraping a mushy Penny off of the road would have been (or as bad as watching her cross the road with my heart in my throat and return to us later in the day unharmed, which was more likely to have happened).
The simple truth this caused me to meditate on for a short while was that I find real joy in communicating with animals, and I always have. Nothing much, but it makes me happy. God, I love that dog! ;-D
And my new computer just came in! Oh happy day.
Earlier this morning, Penny and I took a little walk. On this little walk, she listened to me. Now, the details:
The trash bin here at Brett's place is about a half mile up the dirt road that leads to the house, next to the gate so that it can easily be rolled out onto the main road, and I needed some physical activity to interrupt my work at the computer or I was going to EXPLODE, so I decided to take out the trash even though I'd left my keys in Brett's car last night and thus would have to walk.
Now, Penny, the wonderful animal that is Brett's dog and whom I have wholeheartedly adopted as my own, usually does her own thing. There was a time when we just assumed Penny was a cat in a dog's body, or deaf - she never even seemed to HEAR anything we said to her and paid no attention to us whatsoever unless we were busy doing something that in no way required her assistance, some activity that a big, furry, red dog could interrupt by standing there wagging her tail at you or rolling over onto her back in front of your feet.
However! Having spent much more time with said dog, her having lived here for almost a year and a half now and me being around her on a daily basis for the last month or so, I have come to the conclusion that she is actually a most reasonable and quite biddable personage. As with anyone else, you simply have to make sure she understands what you want in addition to convincing her you want her to do it for a reason.
For instance, when we were walking up the dirt road taking out the trash this morning, she was scouting about twenty feet in front of me, like she does, and once we got close to the gate I sensibly wished for her to NOT continue scouting out onto the non-dirt highway just beyond. So I told her to stop right there and wait for me, by god, or I'd have her hide. She did turn around to see what I wanted, bless her heart, but being the sensible thing that she is, she resumed her jog towards the street of doom upon noting that I continued to walk towards her. Why should she stop if I was still walking? After all, it's her DUTY to scout ahead and make sure there aren't any rabbits that need chasing or cows that need barking at up there.
So I laughed at myself for even trying to tell her what to do and very pointedly turned on my heel to walk back towards the house. "Bye, Penny," I said over my should, to get her attention, "I'll miss you!" Shocked that I would think of leaving her, she immediately turned around and after one indignant look trotted right up to my side. Of course, then I had to pet her all the way over to the trash bin and tell her how smart and beautiful she was until I could turn around and sprint like mad back up the road, yelling over my shoulder that she would never catch me in a million years, but that worked too, and it was fun. She happily ran with me partway back to the house, and it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as scraping a mushy Penny off of the road would have been (or as bad as watching her cross the road with my heart in my throat and return to us later in the day unharmed, which was more likely to have happened).
The simple truth this caused me to meditate on for a short while was that I find real joy in communicating with animals, and I always have. Nothing much, but it makes me happy. God, I love that dog! ;-D
And my new computer just came in! Oh happy day.