Miss Sophie has been with us for a week now, so here’s a quick update.
The ears, they know no boundaries. And the left one marches to the beat of its own drummer.
The right one is thinking about rising tall and taking a stand, I believe, but it’s not quite confident enough yet.
That right ear is a metaphor for Miss Sophie herself. She is gaining some confidence, but isn’t quite there yet.
After a couple of accidental swimming lessons / an unshakable belief that water *can* be a surface similar to the earth, she has gotten her liquid lovin’ on and you can’t keep her out of it now.
This is good news for me, because the entire farm is just an exercise in jumping from clump to clump of soggy land bits mired in a sea of mud. The dogs have all been taught to hop in the doggie wading pool after a walk and turn in circles to get the mud off their feet before they get on the porch and wait their turn to be dried off. It only took a few days worth of dumping Sophie bodily in the pool; now I say her name and she leaps into the pool and splashes around gleefully.
She also splashes around gleefully in any other body of water she finds though.
Neener neener. Be careful what you wish for, Food Lady.
In this way, she is completely unlike Little Man who treats water (ironically) like it’s ON FIRE.
And yes, I know this photo is not in focus, I just couldn’t resist it because it’s funny.
Sophie remains very, very soft – she has lousy bounce back from even a mild correction, so we are being as neutral as possible (this is difficult in this insanity pack of tough personalities!). And yet she has a stubborn streak like you wouldn’t believe. She is DETERMINED to make friends with TWooie, who is DETERMINED to tell her to go to hell and die there. He tells her off over and over again, and she keeps going back for more. She doesn’t do this to the terriers, who ignore her, or Wootie, who barkscreams in her face, and she runs like her ass is on fire when Piper suggests it’s time to back away … but she is relentless in seeking TWooie’s affection.
It’s gotten so bad that I have to remove her from his face at home, as she will hound him from place to place and I can’t stand the growling and clacking of his teeth. He sounds like a walker. All I have to do is say her name and she runs away TWooie. But ten minutes later, as he’s trying to settle into a nap squeezed into a crate somewhere (to escape her fawning) she’s right back at him.
I am starting to think that under that soft exterior hides a rip-roarin’ shit-stirrin’ bitch of a dog and she’s tormenting TWooie not because she loves him but because he’s … you know, special.
She don’t be messin’ with me like that. Word.
Outside, her favourite companion is Dexter, who is mostly oblivious of her very existence, but likes that she will chase him as he barks and snaps at her (in lieu of Tweed and then Ghillie) because he has nobody else to play that game with. She doesn’t take him too seriously either, but also wants nothing to do with him in the house – he’s just a vehicle to expend her outdoor energies. But we managed to break Dexter somehow, so he is on Rimadyl and rest right now, and she is unimpressed with his leashedness on walks. A couple of times the little minx has even nipped him in the ass to see if she can get him to move!
I am also unimpressed with my leashedness on walks.
I have taken her out and about as much as I can to expose her to new things. She still loathes the car, but now hops into her car crate when asked and is no longer scared of going outside just because the car is parked right in front of the house. She LOVES people of all ages, including kids, and she loves to meet new dogs, which is excellent for bringing her out of her shell when she is frightened of her environment (which is anywhere new). I took her to one of those big box pet stores to walk around and get her used to the petrifying parking lot and scary sliding doors etc. We’ll continue to have more experiences like this to work on her confidence, if I can get her out of the giant puddle.
I have had a multitude of inquiries about Little Man, all of them from flyball and Superdog people, oddly. I should clarify therefore, that Little Man would make someone a very nice, active pet dog. He likes strangers and crowds of people as much as TWooie likes Sophie. He is so not a sport dog candidate … he’s like 6lbs of cuddly satellite-eared goofball, with a generally nervous personality. He thinks the sun rises and sets on me, and it’ll be challenging enough for him to transition to a new human without them expecting him to like and/or work around lots and lots of other humans. He just needs a nice mommy.
Are you talking about giving me away??
If this one keeps digging in the mud, I’m giving HER away!
(She’s in my sweatshirt right now, snoring away down my left sleeve as I type, and does not believe for one single second that I’d ever part with her wicked little self. And she’s right too, dammit).