Falling behind

I tend to like blogging more when there are pictures to build monologues around. Unfortunately the camera doesn't get used much, even on the odd occasion when we do take it to some worthy event. As a result, boring text posts will have to suffice once in a while.

We visited some friends in Trenton a couple of weekends ago. Trenton is about a 3-hour drive southwest of Ottawa, on the north shore of Lake Ontario. A guy we knew from our Halifax years is based at the Canadian Forces base there, as is his wife. They have a nice big house with lots of space for guests (I'd forgotten how much more real estate you can get for your money when you don't live near a real city). That was a good thing because they were also hosting his parents and sisters and their dog and had just finished hosting her parents.

We had a great time, despite going to the beach one sunny afternoon. Daisy had an equally great time, entertaining herself with her fellow hound dog and being spoiled by doting girls. The other guest dog, some big lazy beagle or something, didn't quite see things her way and was not in the mood for playing; he just put up with her scampering and/or tried to ignore her. Daisy also had her first cat encounter; they were thoroughly unimpressed and made that quite clear with their hissing. If they hadn't been sequestered for the duration of the visit, some fighting would certainly have taken place.

Then this past Sunday we went to some friends for dinner. They have a young cat, and we were interested to see how he and Daisy would get along. Well, Daisy the dog and Caramel the cat playfought for a few hours, and they seemed equally matched and equally entertained. No claws or hissing or growling or barking, just lots of wrestling and jumping and running tackles. Great fun to watch. Of course Daisy will now assume all cats (a) are fun and (b) won't slice her nose to shreds at the first possible opportunity. Wonder when that will happen.

Yesterday we got her some new toys. Her year-old stuffed turkey is no longer stuffed and hardly resembles a turkey. She now has a stuffed deer to kill; may Bambi put up as good a fight as the turkey did.

And we got her dried pig's ears for treats. We don't give treats often, so she goes wild when she gets a good one. The pig's ear seems to be her favourite yet. We gave her one yesterday, and as I always do I tried to take it away from her in an attempt to make sure she still has manners. Well, I was a little surprised when she growled at me for the first time ever! Not cool. So I gave her something to think about. Flying across the room may not seem to take long, but dogs no doubt find it sufficiently long to contemplate the error of their ways. Just kidding, just a well-weighted swat. I tried the same routine 10 minutes later and got a much-diminished growl. She received another (undiminished) swat. And that was that; I'm betting she won't ever growl over her treats again. As the old adage goes, I guess training a dog is like riding a bike: if a dog growls at you along the way, a swift kick should send it packing!