Alternate title to this post: A tired dog is a good dog.
She had a busy weekend. On Saturday, she had two good walks, played with Riley, went out to Minnetonka and played with Riley and Patches until everyone was wet and exhausted.
Our former neighbors stopped by to meet her, and brought her two toys, and she was so grateful she peed in the house twice. (OK, she has stopped biting, but the next thing to work on is her housebreaking.)
On Sunday: more walks! More play! Nothing of note! We worked on getting her to bring the tennis ball back after chasing it so endearingly. (She watches it fly across the yard and then goes into a little crouch and then bounces and leaps after it.) If I give her a treat, she'll drop it nicely. If I don't, she tries to play catch-me-if-you-can.
Around 6 p.m. she was out of gas. We were sitting out in the yard and she crawled onto Doug's lap, curled up, and went to sleep.