Meeting of the Minds

Since Chica joined our household, I’ve had less time for deep thoughts. It’s about all I can do to keep up with her puppy antics, which include playing tug of war with my squeaky fox toy, pretending to fight, and slavishly following our mistress about the house and yard (I had outgrown that, having learned that she isn’t about to disappear, but Chica won’t let Mary out of her sight.)

If I were to return to my philosophical musings, I might begin with a recent program on National Public Radio where some English chap came on the air to discuss his new book on the inner workings of dogs’ minds.

Now mind you (pardon the expression) man has been trying to look into the minds of beasts since time out of (pardon again) mind. Dogs’ minds in particular. Until recently the theory of dominance has prevailed. Now comes this new theory that if, for example you let your dog sleep in your bed it won’t make him feel like he is the dominant one in the relationship. Well duh. Of course we know humans are in the driver’s seat, if for no other reason than they are the ones who feed us.

My question is what goes on in the minds of humans? Why, for example, does my mistress persist in trying to train Chica to do her business outside, when it is perfectly obvious that Chica will always go wherever she happens to be when the urge strikes. Two vets have told her that if a pup isn’t trained after three months (Chica is nine) it’s probably not going to happen. Yet Mary persists. Apparently the concept of hope looms larger in the human than the canine mind.

I could also ask why my master and mistress took us to Tarpley this weekend in the 90 degree plus weather. It was absolutely beastly and the creeks are down to a trickle. We took an early evening walk but even then we had our tongues hanging out. Meanwhile, Mary’s walking group has disbanded for the summer due to the heat. Hopefully they will regroup in fall and walk weekly until it gets too cold. These ladies are fair weather walkers for sure. And I must admit that I am of one mind with them on that.

Of Play and Plovers

My, how time does fly. It’s been roughly a month since I last wrote. And if, as they say, a dog year equal seven human ones, that means it’s been more than half a year. For me, though it has gone by in a flash. That’s because I’m having so much fun with Chica.

Before she came I used to lie under the covers all morning before rising, eating and going back to bed. I was just sleeping my life away. Now I’m up as soon as my mistress gets out of bed, usually around 7:30. Chica is still in that stage where she can’t bear to have Mary out of her sight, so she follows Mary. And I follow Chica.

Mary puts us outside immediately, since she is trying to train Chica to do her business there. The housetraining regimen has not been altogether successful. I am of course an excellent role model in this respect, but sometimes Chica blows it indoors. I do hope she learns. Two vets have told Mary that since Chica is more than three months old, it may not be possible to train her. One of them added, “Aren’t you glad she weighs only five pounds?” This is cold comfort, however when one steps on a nasty in the night.

We have continued to go to the country on weekends despite the drought and worsening heat. Last week we saw a clutch of plover eggs in a little depression next to Hondo Creek. Also called killdeer because that’s what their call sounds like (to a human anyway), the lazy things lay their eggs directly on the ground. We saw a killdeer pretending to have a broken wing and, on to their strategem, we didn’t let her lead us away. Instead we searched the immediate area and lo! there they were, all splotchy on top so as to blend in.

The creek below was hardly flowing and one of the tanks at the back of the place has completely dried up, but if the killdeer figure there’s a future for their fledglings then I feel like surely the rains will come. They must.