Leaps and Bounds

I hate to admit this, but I think Sasha has gone back to being the puppy she was before I got my tremulous, anxious, expectant paws on her. That's not to say we haven't worked wonders together, and that I haven't been there and back in my doggie education. But I feel sure that she had been really well trained and well cared for before I ever met her, and being uprooted so peremptorily and transposed into my unprepared life must have been traumatic in the extreme (for both of us). Thanks to the help of the dog training women, the internet, friends and family I have learned how to be with her, and she's been able to relax and become who she already was. Crazy, but true. She's still a monkey at times, but a calm, gentle approach is what she responds to, and I no longer overreact when she misbehaves. This morning after a long walk and a vigorous play session she left me alone to write some emails. Out of the corner of my eye I watched her drag the dirty washing on the floor over to her basket, and start licking a shirt. She was watching me the whole time, and so I just said "No", very quietly, and she let go of the shirt and licked her paw instead. "Good girl" was then enough. She knew it was wrong, but no fuss was made by either of us. It's FABULOUS to be getting the hang of this. I no longer dread starting a new day with her.

Yesterday we went a tad too far in the baking sunshine, exploring a new footpath with Ruth who was staying. When we left the house it was cool and overcast, but within minutes the humidity had returned and the sun was overbright in the sky. We trekked along beside a nearly ripe wheat field, then crossed a ditch on a bridge made from two sturdy sleepers. We should have returned the way we came, but on we plodded, all of us wilting in the intense heat. Suffice it to say a large puddle from the previous night's downpour appeared on the lane in the nick of time, but one very tired puppy gave up the ghost and had to be carried. Heavy lump she is, so we took it in turns. Back home after a cool drink I left her in her cage in a cool room to recover.

With Sasha safely tucked away we took our wine down to the summerhouse. And that's when it really rained. For over an hour we sat there lamenting the absence of the bottle, cringing as thunder and lightening thrashed around above us and water spouted exuberantly from roofs and pipes. The good news is that the summerhouse doesn't leak, but the bad news is that, with the back door and study window open, the house definitely does. Today is warm and sunny again, and now the lawn needs cutting. Dare I ask for a breather in the stormy weather so that it can dry out?