Within two days of his joining my pack, the skies opened up and dumped several feet of snow all over the Pacific Northwest, a storm that hasn't been seen since--well, since ever. Three feet of snow and a 10" tall dog make for a poor combination any time. If said dog is new to the place, doesn't know the routine, and is injured, anything can happen. I would like to say he is starting to respond to my commands, but it turns out Little Scruffdog has his own sign language and is waiting patiently for me to figure it out.
It only took one accident on the rug for me to realize that when he puts one paw on top of my foot, it's time to go out. Young Geezer took him out into the tamped-down snow on the sidewalk and Scruffdog obliged within a few feet of our yard. When I took him out, he sat quivering in the snow, one front paw up, looking pitiful. (I think one paw up means, "Do I have to?") Try to understand: I'm in full-on nurse mode; I dress his wounds, administer five kinds of medicine, and hold him in my arms while I watch TV (which I do a lot right now, since we're snowed in). How could I drag this poor little creature onto the frozen tundra and demand he perform? I carried him back, apologizing profusely.
I told Young Geezer what happened. "You mean you turned around and looked at him?" he asked, incredulous. Apparently, Young Geezer walks without looking back until he feels enough drag on the leash to know his little charge has found an interesting spot. He knows the big pleading eyes and tiny raised paw will melt the hardest of hearts. "Whatever you do," he said, "Don't make eye contact!"
I might be able to do this. But do I have to?
2 comments:
Oooohhh, Little Scruffdog has the cutest little face! Makes my heart melt.
can you believe it snowed AGAIN!? and yes, the girls were very, very funny that night in the snow!
Post a Comment