May 09, 2003
Carrying a big stick!
11:30 a.m.
Today, I have a link for you:
Go here to dress your gay dog. Too fun!
6:53 p.m.
It was a beautiful afternoon and I had a brilliant idea: since Dusty was doing so well on our walks, I would treat her to a very long walk, part of it through a ravine near our neighbourhood. Toronto is famous for its ravines - literal nature trails scattered throughout the heart of the city.
I should have known it was a bad idea as soon as we walked through the door. Dusty has been having these episodes that can only be called 'adolescent bursts.' Suddenly, she just forgets that she was ever trained, ever knew how to sit or lay down or walk nicely on a leash. And she totally, completely forgets that I even exist. She was having one of those episodes this afternoon.
Very frustrating.
Ironically, a few streets away from our house, a man in an SUV rolled down his window to ask me how on earth I'd gotten my dog to walk so nicely on leash (!). He must have observed us for the whole 5 minutes Dusty was actually walking along nicely on a loose leash. *sigh*
I went ahead and tried to do our walk anyways. We took the subway up to St. Clair West and walked south. When we started out, it was so hot that I was sweating and cursed bringing my sweater (which was awkwardly tied around my waist). About an hour later, it was *freezing* out. It clouded up and I think a front went through. My nose was running. My hands were cold.
I was grumpy. Dusty was stubborn. I was struggling not to lose my temper with her. I tried ignoring the leash pulling. I tried positive reinforcement. I tried 'being a tree.' I tried walking backward. Nothing worked. Nothing, until she just up and decided that she *did* understand the whole loose leash concept after all and started walking nicely one again, completely out of the blue.
This is how we entered the dog park to meet up with our friends - calmly and on a loose leash. She even sat when I asked her to. "Wow!" they said. "Dusty's training is going really well!"
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
And just when I wonder if my dog even *likes* me anymore, there's an incident like this morning: I briefly left Dusty in the park with her dog-friends (and supervising dog-moms) because I had to run home to take the trash out. When I returned, the dog-moms reported that Dusty had played for awhile until she noticed that I was gone. Then she walked around looking for me and crying.
When I returned, I could see her wandering amongst the legs and other dogs, forlorn and dejected. I called her and she raced over to me, her whole body wagging as she made little yelps of joy.
Yup. She may be a teenager, but she loves me.