Today was a long, long day. Lots of conversations were had, mostly somber, but a few were full of a lot of laughs and shenanigans (thanks, Wanda and Gordie, for those!). It never will cease to amaze me how well in tune we pet owners are in touch with our pets, and vice versa.
Today, as I said, was long. The best parts of the day, really, were hanging out with two of my favourite people: Wanda and Gordon (at different times). I'm sitting here watching BuzzFeed Unsolved: True Crime on Hulu.
My little Dachshund, Emily, is in her usual spot - right next to me - and she decided to go grab one of her toys and bring it to me to play after she had climbed on my lap for kisses. I was playing with her, telling her that I know I had been gone all day, I had a long day at Church and then came home and hung out and then my friend had come later in the day to pick me up to go get dinner (authentic ramen! Pretty tasty stuff! Thank you, Gordie, for that experience. Really enjoyed it!), and I told her I was sorry that I was gone most of the day, but sometimes people have to be away from home. I told her that I was grateful to be home, though, grateful to be back with my babies (her and her four kitty and six fishy siblings) to hang out and watch some telly and unwind from the day's events and work through all the conversations I'd had.
At one point, she'd hopped down, grabbed a random toy - a green bat-looking thing that surprisingly still squeaks - and brought it to me for me to throw down the hall for her. We sat here and played fetch for about 20 minutes, then she came and lay down on the couch for a little bit of a breather, then decided to get up, flood me with kisses some more, and then resume play for another several minutes. Rinse, repeat. Ziva, my female cat, wanted to try to join in the fun, too, but Emily kept barrelling into her so she decided, 'Alright, fine, I'll get out of the way!' and now Emily's all wore out, laying down on the couch, her hip pressed up against mine (because this is how she normally lays on the couch when she's not laying lengthwise along my leg or trying to climb up my nose, tongue first), under one of her favourite blankets. My sweet little dog... She is eight years old, I have had her seven years (I got her six days shy of her first birthday), and it has taken me this whole time to try to teach her that the correct rules of fetch are she brings me the toy, LETS GO OF THE TOY FOR ME TO THROW IT FOR HER, she runs and gets the toy, and brings it back to me, LETTING GO OF THE TOY SO I CAN THROW IT, rinse, repeat. Normally, this little fuzzy bucket of waggy fussy bossiness loves to grab the toy, bring it to me like she's going to let me have it, but I have to CHASE HER DOWN to get it. And it's not enough that she makes me chase her for the toy. Of course not. I have to wrestle with her to get it from her. Tonight, she wanted to play so much that she was willing to play by the correct rules. Only took me seven years for her to finally understand the rules, thus showing that an older dog can, in fact, learn a new trick.
Good girl, Emily. I love you! Thank you for that fun game!
Today, as I said, was long. The best parts of the day, really, were hanging out with two of my favourite people: Wanda and Gordon (at different times). I'm sitting here watching BuzzFeed Unsolved: True Crime on Hulu.
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| She's tuckered out. Awwww... |
At one point, she'd hopped down, grabbed a random toy - a green bat-looking thing that surprisingly still squeaks - and brought it to me for me to throw down the hall for her. We sat here and played fetch for about 20 minutes, then she came and lay down on the couch for a little bit of a breather, then decided to get up, flood me with kisses some more, and then resume play for another several minutes. Rinse, repeat. Ziva, my female cat, wanted to try to join in the fun, too, but Emily kept barrelling into her so she decided, 'Alright, fine, I'll get out of the way!' and now Emily's all wore out, laying down on the couch, her hip pressed up against mine (because this is how she normally lays on the couch when she's not laying lengthwise along my leg or trying to climb up my nose, tongue first), under one of her favourite blankets. My sweet little dog... She is eight years old, I have had her seven years (I got her six days shy of her first birthday), and it has taken me this whole time to try to teach her that the correct rules of fetch are she brings me the toy, LETS GO OF THE TOY FOR ME TO THROW IT FOR HER, she runs and gets the toy, and brings it back to me, LETTING GO OF THE TOY SO I CAN THROW IT, rinse, repeat. Normally, this little fuzzy bucket of waggy fussy bossiness loves to grab the toy, bring it to me like she's going to let me have it, but I have to CHASE HER DOWN to get it. And it's not enough that she makes me chase her for the toy. Of course not. I have to wrestle with her to get it from her. Tonight, she wanted to play so much that she was willing to play by the correct rules. Only took me seven years for her to finally understand the rules, thus showing that an older dog can, in fact, learn a new trick.
Good girl, Emily. I love you! Thank you for that fun game!
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