Further Observations on Poop

Murphy and I headed back to obedience training this week. Last week I stayed home because my nose was throwing its annual snot fiesta and couldn't be bothered to stop for matters such as dog training. Much like previous weeks, we learned that I am not dominant and the dog doesn't listen. Plus we didn't practice at all because I was in bed due to the aforementioned snot festivities. Scatology was the least of my worries because my nose was out of commission.

At training class, the other owners are so diligent with their dogs. They practice and the dogs listen to them. I've tried chatting with the other owners, but they like to keep their distance. Really, I want to pet the dogs. I'm enchanted with a Cairn terrier who is bright and perky. Another dog looks just like Lady from Lady and the Tramp. I'm not quite on the same wave length as everyone else. They aren't rude -- just very distant. Maybe they're afraid their dogs will act like mine if we fraternize, or maybe they don't find me as amusing as I find myself.

Meanwhile, Murphy's learning how to "park it" on his bed. It was excruciating. The other dog owners were able to have their dogs stay while they walked out of sight. Murphy wouldn't even stay while I was standing next to him. About 15 minutes later, I was flushed, frustrated, and flustered. Someone else's dog pooped, and it was a relief that the instructor was distracted from the distinct lack of obedience I was experiencing. My dog might be out playing Calvin ball for the entire class, but at least he didn't poop in the middle of Pet Smart.

After quietly congratulating myself on not being The Worst, I turned around and the stubborn Beagle had his front paws and his back paws together so he could squat. It was suspiciously like pooping but I dragged him outside before anything happened. I bumped into the other offender and his owner outside the store on a strip of grass. "Stimulating class, huh?" I said. She looked over her shoulder and hurried her dog into the store.

Dirt and Dogs

Spring lured me outside this evening after a particularly draining day at work. The pinnacle of the day was a three-hour meeting. The meeting was valuable, and the information was pertinent. No one wasted time (thank goodness). My butt and I still want a medal. Sitting that long is a challenge. By the time I arrived home, I was certain that I would wind up on the couch immediately. 

Murphy is still here, and he was ready for a walk. He looked so eager and excited that I decided to go for a little walk, which put some life back in my body. Then it was time to mow the lawn and plant a few marigolds. Murphy and I lounged on the deck and surveyed our scrap of dirt. The picture above is a hosta division from my sister called "Guacamole." I hope to make many more divisions of it future years. It would do well as an edging for the shady part of the garden.

Back to the dog, I'm getting attached to that sweet canine. Even Oscar played with him this evening. Murphy's people need to show up soon or it will be a sad farewell for me. Only two people have called about the ad, and he wasn't a match for the first person. The other person wanted to know if I'd lost my "found" Beagle. Apparently, she also found a neutered Beagle with a red collar in the Delano District. We should form a support group for people who couldn't say, "No" to sad, Snoopy eyes.

House Guest

On Tuesday, Shelly tweeted about a small, stray Beagle who needed a place to stay for a few days. He'd wandered across Douglas and ended up at Twist. I'm a sucker for fury, sweet creatures and took him home. He's a real gentleman and not just because he's neutered. He is clearly used to spending his days on the sofa and his nights at the foot of the bed.

He's got a red collar sans tags. A vet scanned him for a microchip, but nothing showed up. I'm sure his owners are frantic, but posts on websites and calls to shelters haven't yielded any results. 

So, he's hanging out at my house until his home is located. I've learned quite a bit about reuniting animals with their owners. The biggest thing I've learned is that it is not easy or quick. The shelters weren't willing to take my name and number, but they did 

direct me to three websites where I posted his information. By Saturday I started to call him "Murphy" because "hey dog" seemed rude.

Most days he sprawls on the floor and chases the cats. (Although Oscar has been known to haul off and whomp him on the nose.) He's also terrified of thunderstorms and insists on being held during them. 

I'm enjoying his company while I work in the garden, but I'm also looking forward to when he is reunited with his owners.