Poor, poor Tweed. It’s hard to be a gimpy old man dog who’s been convicted of a non-crime that he never committed. But the end is in sight!! Tomorrow is Commence Leash Walks Week – the home stretch! – and I know he will be oh so happy! But I can’t even give him the good news, because when I say “Tweed, you can start on leash walks tomorrow” all he hears is “blahblahgarbagecrapWALKblah” and I get this face:
which breaks my heart.
Have you ever had to crate a dog long term? I have to say, it’s not been quite as terrible as I envisioned. The moaning and whining stopped in a day or two, and my good dog resigned himself to his circumstances. He heads right into the crate after potty breaks, and doesn’t even stop for me to take the leash off. But I can only imagine that he thinks I’m punishing him for something, and that it’s the world’s longest correction.
There’s an upside to this though – it gave me the fortitude to leave the TWoo at home in a crate of his own and take my significantly diminished pack of three dogs to Derby Reach for some swimming without having to wrangle Sir Dog Aggro. I didn’t bring the camera on that adventure, but ultimately TWooie was just fine and I think we’ll be doing it again quite often.
TWoo is a never ending treasure trove of new and interesting behaviours. The latest one is his brand new interest in the previously terminally boring cats. He follows them all over the place, corners them, and stares at them.
I think it started when I was soaking Donut’s infected feetsies. A couple of her toes got a bit pus-encrusted where the nails were ripped out, and since she’s already on an antibiotic, the only thing I can do is try to epsom-salt the wounds clean.
Donut is a cat. Cats don’t appreciate it when you stick their feet in an old yogurt container filled with warm water. They have lots to say on the subject, some of it loudly and full of pissed-off wails. The wailing is what seemed to spark TWooie’s attention – my guess is that the rabbit-eating episode awakened his sleeping hunter and he thinks the cat is in distress, and therefore, potentially edible.
The Hannibal Lecter of Aussie crosses best not eat the other small thing I’m bringing home this weekend.
Superpuppyadorableness is coming to stay with me for the long weekend while her foster mum goes out of town.
Because of course, I need to have 6 dogs here. 5 was just not enough.
Wootie: Another dog? I hope she’s not going to start giving some of us away.
I’m thinking about giving away a dog to two, tell you whut. I was late for work yesterday morning because a certain WooTWoo crossed the river using an old beaver dam and left me stranded and screaming on the other side, demanding they come home RIGHT NOW, which the WooTWoo totally ignored. Of course.
Maybe they should be in jail instead of Tweed.
Until next time, dear readers … dream of puppy-cat-bunny stew.