Dogs, these days, are all we do. We walk them and feed them and hover to grab them (her) before they (she) can pee in the house, and we stand in the back yard and watch them and hover to grab them (her) before she can wriggle underneath the fence and escape.
We have the fence barricaded all over the place with other fencing and railroad ties and various blockades, but she is like a mouse, or a rat--she can flatten out and slither through tiny tiny spaces that her blocky body does not look like it would fit through.
We went down to the lake, all four of us, today, and Riley watched nervously while Rosie made friends with about a million people and several dogs. She is charismatic; a magnet for people (especially sort of lonely people).
We have practiced the soothing hold, to no avail; she simply does not find it soothing, but confining. I am sort of dreading puppy kindergarten on Tuesday when she is sure to demonstrate her maverick personality again.
This afternoon she went down to Debbie-the-former-dog-walker's house to play with her 75-pound dog, Gunther, who is fast and agile and gentle.
Gunther says, sure, kid, jump on my head!
He loved her the minute she spurted through the gate, and they played hard for about 20 minutes. This was after she played hard with Riley in the morning, and then this evening she and Riley played again.
Rosie says, I submit! I submit!
Rosie plotting her next move from the safety of under Gunther's back deck.
In between, she napped hard. So, quite frankly, did we all.
Rosie and me settling down for a nice nap on the front porch, just like Boscoe and I used to do.