Well, kids … by the time you read this, I’ll be winging my way cross country on my big adventure to BlogPaws. I’ll likely Tweet parts of the event. I may gripe on Facebook to my friends there, should travel snags arise. And, if I have time, I may even blog with updates. If not, you’ll have to wait for my return to our usual blogging schedule next week.
As the recent snows recede, we’re finding all sorts of signs of animal activity that’s been brewing below. It’s no wonder I’m already having a tough time getting Lilly to come inside (a warm-weather phenomenon, for those new to her unique behavior patterns). Behold, the mighty hunter. Rabbit and vole season is well underway.
In an effort to avoid creating travel-related fear/worry triggers for Lilly, I’m being beyond careful in my BlogPaws planning and packing this week. I do not want Lilly to associate things like suitcases or certain changes in my behavior with me leaving. We know, already, her abilities at pattern recognition.
Our doorbell never rings. Pretty much … never. That’s the beauty of living on a fully fenced hunk o’ land with a locking gate. Other than the few times it came up in the Relaxation Protocol (detailed, tedious dog behavior modification), Lilly and Ginko haven’t heard our doorbell ring. So, imagine my adrenalin rush and their curiosity when it went off Friday in the middle of a quiet working morning.
Turns out one of my blogger/writer pals is completely stumped about where to click through to comment when she visits Champion of My Heart. While I continue to chip away at the various glitches and bugs since our redesign and platform shift, I can’t possible know everything that goes wrong.
Sometimes Lilly is so intent on playing fetch in a way that doesn’t get Ginko riled up to the point that he ruins the game. The ONLY way to accomplish that is by using a stick rather than a toy. For some reason, Ginko could not care less about sticks. Lilly’s stick strategy worked fine until she became friends with Katie, the borzoi, because Katie had no qualms about stealing sticks. But, sometimes, I think my brilliant, sensitive girl can’t tell the difference between a stick and kindling.
My family had several dogs when I was growing up, but the first dog I chose, raised, and cared for on my own was a Dalmatian named Penelope Grace. She was a handful, but when you’re 22 years old, that doesn’t seem like a biggie. Yet, early on, I established all kinds of rules because I was a grown-up.
When my work and family days get too hectic, I try to fit in several rousing rounds of fetch so that Lilly burns off pent-up border collie energy. Imagine my frustration, then, when after just a few throws she seems bored or annoyed. Seriously, if I make the effort to bundle up, put on real shoes, and interrupt a deadline-soaked day, the least Lilly can do is enjoy it. Right?
Thanks to diligence on my part, Lilly is MUCH better about the toenail thing than Ginko. I take the tiniest bit off of each of her nails once a week, both so that they don’t get too long and so that she never gets out of practice with this grooming task. We jokingly call it Turkey for Toenails, but most times I use cheese instead. One toe, one hunk of cheese. It’s a good trade.
I get all kinds of interesting alerts via email. This includes tidbits from something called Packaged Facts. Today’s missive touts a 5% or $2.5 BILLION increase in pet-related spending in 2009. — despite the recession. Those outside the dog world might be surprised by the data (which is used to promote a whole, big report on the pet market), but I am not. It’s really quite simple.
