Well, she can still get under the fence. Found that out last night about 10 p.m. when I went through the gate to turn off the hose water. Even in the dark, I saw her black little head poke out under the pickets, and I said, "Stay there," which she often understands as meaning "stay there" but last night she understood as "wriggle on out, girl!"
She wriggled on out and shot across the yard toward the street and my heart stopped for just a second, and I did what I knew was right, even though it went contrary to all my instincts: I did not chase her, but opened the gate, stepped back into the yard, and said in a cheery voice, "Come on, Rosie," and thanks be to God she came back.
This was after her evening visit to the vet, where in the confines of the exam room she turned back into Rosie the Wolverine after two weeks of sweetness. We'd seen this coming over the last couple of days when she started growing owly and fussy, unhappy in her crate (which is why we were in the yard together at 10 p.m.).
And then, as Dr. J. listened to her heart and peered into her ears, she turned into a full-blown wolverine once more. Poor Dr. J; this is the only way he has seen her. "She was really sweet the last two weeks," I said, and he just looked at me like, "Yeah, lady, pet owners are always blind to the failings of their animals."
Rosie and Riley were at the vet to get the second half of their Lyme disease shots, and Rosie was also getting the balance of her puppy shots--the last distemper, and rabies. But the shots hadn't happened yet; we were still in the exam room, when her head started bobbing and weaving and her sharp little teeth started flashing.
Dr. J. explained to us what he was going to do, and then he did it. He leaned close to Rosie's face, bellowed NO!!!! in a volume loud enough to stop a train, and then he growled. It was a good growl, fierce and deep in his throat. Quite ominous.
It worked, for a second. She stopped being a wolverine and looked at him with surprise. And when she resumed her wolverine mode, he growled again.
According to the scale at the vet's office, she now weighs 19 pounds, and I'm figuring that the wolverine mode and growth spurt are, once again, linked. Please taper off again, Rosie. I've been bragging to everyone about how sweet you are. Please get sweet again.
It's 7:15 a.m. Time to walk the great old dog and the puppy. Always an adventure, but somehow I think that with a 19-pound wolverine on the other end of the leash instead of a sweet puppy, this morning might be particularly noteworthy. Wish me luck.