I am not sure of the wisdom of a couple in their mid-fifties (and that’s a kindly stretch for Hubs) adopting a preternaturally active rescue dog. You would think the obvious border collie markings and herding tendencies would have warned us.
But seriously. Who could resist that pitiful cuteness?
She cleaned up well, and seems to have become quite comfortable with her life now.
We walk her. We take her to the dog park. We walk her again. We play frisbee in the backyard, hide-and-seek inside (honestly, try it with your dog, endless fun as they are not very good at it!) At last, we walk her before bed.
She is usually fairly well-behaved, but for some reason, the Christmas season and accompanying cold weather make her mischievously frisky.
She has decided that shoes are endlessly interesting, and loves taking them apart to see just how they work.
Today I arrived home to this.
Hmmm. What is it? Well, it looks to me like a plastic Easter egg that used to be filled with about five Starburst chewy candies. Go ahead and laugh, I’ll wait. Even better, our “kids” are now 26 and 22, and I can’t remember the last time the Easter bunny visited our house, as neither has been home for this holiday in years. It is a firm indictment of my housewifery skills.
I know a lot of dog stuff, but the Starburst situation was new to me. I called the vet, but I admit I didn’t have the cojones to tell the whole truth. The Easter candy of indeterminate age became, well, Christmas candy with the unspoken assumption that it was this year’s bounty. Oh, don’t judge, like you’ve never lied to your doctor …
Anyway, you will be glad to know that the most likely outcome of this misadventure will simply be some very colorful walks in the near future.