The dogs do not care for the fence thing, not at all at all. We spent the day training. If dogs want to go outside, they go inside the fence unless I am outside with them. It is a matter of minutes before I hear the mournful woof. And back in they come. Lots of cookies inside the fence. A nice marrow bone, for which Toby found good burial options.
They were pretty tractable. One or two mad dashes for the door when I went out to the car, but we learned the command “no dogs” a long time ago. Ah, the sadness on those furry faces!
We spent a couple of quiet afternoon hours together, Karen in hammock and dogs inside fence a few feet away striking their guard dog pose. Lying on the grass, with paws stretched far in front, their casual demeanor is all a mask Hush! Karen is sleeping. Don’t bother our mom.
The whole scene was a training session designed to have them spend happy time inside the fence. Not to mention a nice nap for me. I actually thought I got away with it.
As the afternoon sun dropped lower in the sky, I went back out to work in the garden. On my way to and fro with stakes for tomatoes, I spy one of my favorite Merrell hiking boots out in the yard. Aaagh…that Toby! He loves my shoes almost as much as he loves me, and he takes them along for comfort. But I do believe that he also knows which shoes I like best. I haven’t found the other boot yet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Poor puppy.
We are not looking forward to moving our cat Moby. He will go along, not like it will be difficult for us as such. But it will not be a happy time for him, and we hate to see him lurking miserably under whatever he can find in our packed up apartment. We took the bedframe apart last night, and he kept looking for Under There- a comfort spot for him. And there was no more Under There. Poor kitty.
Post a Comment