Gracie and I went to our first obedience class last night.
Boy it was embarassing.
Imagine your taking your spoiled but beautiful child to a party where all the other children know their manners. The only reason your beloved doesn't spin out of control, spewing chaos, is that you are holding on so tightly. Yeah.
The others had attended class one (this was two). The others had already established alpha dominance and, I think, some were more submissive breeds. There was only one other puppy--a chihuahua. Gracie's barking scared him so bad he could perform as commanded, but couldn't eat his treats. Too nervous.
Gracie barks at home only to signify danger ("there's a strange flower arrangement in the living room! Beware! Beware!") or to play. Boy, did she want to play.
Bless her heart. She WAS intimidated. Most of the other dogs could step over her without stirring a hair. Off lead, she might, after all, have scurried behind my legs. But she barked. And barked. THEY, however, were smiling silently, tongues lolling, heeling fairly well, doing sit and stay nicely, and really focusing on their owners and the forthcoming treets.
"Yes," the trainer said mildly. "This one needs a LOT of training."
I knew that. (sigh)
Time to get to work, Gracie, before we get thrown out of class.
She's a really good dog. Stellar. The behavior is my fault.
Four exercises. No more than 5 minutes at a time. Three times a day. At least three days a week.
Gotta get a really big box of some really small, yummy treats.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Gracie is Officially a Southwesterner (and just maybe I'm a slob)
Gracie keeps telling me and telling me:
Don't leave food or my purse (unzipped) on the floor! ever!
I guess it shows my priorities that the stacks of books I have always had on the floor are now in safe places. My purse--usually. And my groceries--not so much.
Bringing in four sacks yesterday, I absentmindedly put the sack with the green chiles and flour tortillas on the floor. And I didn't pick it up again.
Huh. No wonder she wasn't hungry this morning. She had eaten about a third of a package of 24 tortillas (They are Mission, and I bought them to go with some green chile stew, but I personally don't find them THAT good.) The sack of chiles she had, in her usual manner, carefully opened without puncturing the sack. Looks like she played with the chiles more than anything-an occasional toothmark, but they are scattered over two rooms.
Guess she is officially a Southwesterner.
Her behavior was nothing if not predictable. I know better.
Okay, Gracie.
But now it's time for walkies. I've studied this. I can do this. Just 5-10 minutes. That's ONE thing I did wrong. Treats. Thank God SOME of my clothes have pockets.
Patience.
And that's the real lesson Gracie is trying to teach me.
Don't leave food or my purse (unzipped) on the floor! ever!
I guess it shows my priorities that the stacks of books I have always had on the floor are now in safe places. My purse--usually. And my groceries--not so much.
Bringing in four sacks yesterday, I absentmindedly put the sack with the green chiles and flour tortillas on the floor. And I didn't pick it up again.
Huh. No wonder she wasn't hungry this morning. She had eaten about a third of a package of 24 tortillas (They are Mission, and I bought them to go with some green chile stew, but I personally don't find them THAT good.) The sack of chiles she had, in her usual manner, carefully opened without puncturing the sack. Looks like she played with the chiles more than anything-an occasional toothmark, but they are scattered over two rooms.
Guess she is officially a Southwesterner.
Her behavior was nothing if not predictable. I know better.
Okay, Gracie.
But now it's time for walkies. I've studied this. I can do this. Just 5-10 minutes. That's ONE thing I did wrong. Treats. Thank God SOME of my clothes have pockets.
Patience.
And that's the real lesson Gracie is trying to teach me.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Lord, give me patience and I need it NOW
Somehow, I don't think "Stay! You blankety blank piece of blank!" is suggested as a command in the instruction book of how to train your dog.
Gracie and I kind of went for a walk this morning. We probably covered a half mile, tops. At least I wasn't the only one panting at the end.
She was very agreeable at first. She chafed at my efforts to keep her on my right side. (I think it's supposed to be the left, but I liked the right.) Oh, she didn't prefer the left. It was just a pleasant and usually sudden alternative.
Tripping me? She gave me that insoucient adolescent look.
"Clumsy, aren't you? That wasn't MY fault."
There were some birds on the ground. She wanted to chase, and bark.
Many, many dogs in practically every house. She wanted to visit. We proceeded with my muscling her along (all four feet on the ground.)
She's a growing dog, approaching five months and 20 pounds of solid muscle and will power. She wasn't cranky about it. I was the only one cranky. She just tested, and tested, and tested limits.
How she got enough slack in the leash twice to run around me, leash totally tying my legs together, I don't know. I didn't fall, though. I think I said something about a piece of something again.
And when we started home on the two-lane highway, going south, well. Pretty good shoulder there, we were some distance from the road. Gracie made it perfectly clear that of the two of us, I was going to be the one closest to the motor vehicles. She was going to shelter in my lee, so to speak. And I didn't have the muscle to win that battle.
So we limped home. I flicked her with the leash when she yelled at the chickens. She's supposed to protect chickens, not yell at them. She proceeded with me and stopped lunging, but she barked several more times.
And this short little ramble took almost 30 minutes.
Guess I'll be reading up today.
Because, you know, having started, we have to do this again tomorrow.
What have I done?
Gracie and I kind of went for a walk this morning. We probably covered a half mile, tops. At least I wasn't the only one panting at the end.
She was very agreeable at first. She chafed at my efforts to keep her on my right side. (I think it's supposed to be the left, but I liked the right.) Oh, she didn't prefer the left. It was just a pleasant and usually sudden alternative.
Tripping me? She gave me that insoucient adolescent look.
"Clumsy, aren't you? That wasn't MY fault."
There were some birds on the ground. She wanted to chase, and bark.
Many, many dogs in practically every house. She wanted to visit. We proceeded with my muscling her along (all four feet on the ground.)
She's a growing dog, approaching five months and 20 pounds of solid muscle and will power. She wasn't cranky about it. I was the only one cranky. She just tested, and tested, and tested limits.
How she got enough slack in the leash twice to run around me, leash totally tying my legs together, I don't know. I didn't fall, though. I think I said something about a piece of something again.
And when we started home on the two-lane highway, going south, well. Pretty good shoulder there, we were some distance from the road. Gracie made it perfectly clear that of the two of us, I was going to be the one closest to the motor vehicles. She was going to shelter in my lee, so to speak. And I didn't have the muscle to win that battle.
So we limped home. I flicked her with the leash when she yelled at the chickens. She's supposed to protect chickens, not yell at them. She proceeded with me and stopped lunging, but she barked several more times.
And this short little ramble took almost 30 minutes.
Guess I'll be reading up today.
Because, you know, having started, we have to do this again tomorrow.
What have I done?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Heat Isn't Finished Yet
Last week was lovely. Temps in the 50s in the mornings. Gracie loved it.
This week, back in the 100s again (true fall in Texas doesn't come until late November).
And the young fools living here are so happy. Dallas-Fort Worth should reach 105 today, making this the 70th day of triple digit heat. That beats 1980.
Texas already has the warmest average summer heat this year since the beginning of weather records in 1895.
I keep moaning about our 70th day. State capital, Austin, Texas, is now in day 93 of triple digit heat. Bastrop, near Austin, has now lost more than 1,500 homes, along with assorted beloved dogs, cats, donkeys, horses, etc. Fire sixty percent contained yesterday. School buses picked up the kids yesterday for the first time in a week to go back to school. Kids are at shelters, motels, hotels, with friends, etc.
No rain. None forcasted. Meanwhile, homeowner's associations require green, lush lawns and filled swimming pools.
Absolutely dumb.
It's time for me to investigate using my grey water to irrigate and invest in some rain barrels(also not allowed in HOAs). I suspect a lot of that is going to happen. Iime to look for another soaker hose or two.
We will get rain again. Sometime. But the size of the population will continue to grow. The amount of water is finite.
This week, back in the 100s again (true fall in Texas doesn't come until late November).
And the young fools living here are so happy. Dallas-Fort Worth should reach 105 today, making this the 70th day of triple digit heat. That beats 1980.
Texas already has the warmest average summer heat this year since the beginning of weather records in 1895.
I keep moaning about our 70th day. State capital, Austin, Texas, is now in day 93 of triple digit heat. Bastrop, near Austin, has now lost more than 1,500 homes, along with assorted beloved dogs, cats, donkeys, horses, etc. Fire sixty percent contained yesterday. School buses picked up the kids yesterday for the first time in a week to go back to school. Kids are at shelters, motels, hotels, with friends, etc.
No rain. None forcasted. Meanwhile, homeowner's associations require green, lush lawns and filled swimming pools.
Absolutely dumb.
It's time for me to investigate using my grey water to irrigate and invest in some rain barrels(also not allowed in HOAs). I suspect a lot of that is going to happen. Iime to look for another soaker hose or two.
We will get rain again. Sometime. But the size of the population will continue to grow. The amount of water is finite.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Can We Change the Script a Little?
Thank God THAT is over.
It is Sept. 12.
And yes, I've cried several times. My nine-year-old granddaughter saw a tape at school that sounds like it was pretty good. The school kids saw the new waterfalls and pools. She thought it was a nice gesture.
I tried to explain that yes, it was probably pretty nice, but the families still grieved.
Sept. 11 is supposed to be a day of commemoration and service. Didn't Obama and his daughter go help out at a soup kitchen or some such last year? Where was the service emphasis by Americans this year?
I went to church because I always do on Sunday, but I didn't go to mine. I went with some friends to theirs, and the adult Sunday School was participating in a four-week course on forgiveness.
It's healthy to forgive, of course. They also said no one should because they ought, but when they were ready. And then someone suggested I forgive the perpetrators of Sept. 11.
I don't hate the perpetrators of Sept. 11. The acts are too far over my ability even to understand. They are dead. We go on. We rebuild. But I don't forgive. I don't have to forgive evil. There's a dodge-ball organization I probably will never see with my own eyes to blame. That's all. I certainly am not mad at people of different faiths. I don't even agree with a lot of the people I'm supposed to share a faith with.
Would I let my grandchildren play with their kids? No. That's not hate.
Did we have to sit on our fat American rumps (and most of them are fat) and cry? Apparently. The news media entertained us with hours of maudlin reminescence and recapping and solemn ceremonies. And we accomplished zero good to offset the evil that still reasonates.
Next year, I'm cleaning up a park. Or I'm taking a page from the Egyptions and taking my broom down to sweep the streets around the city square.Or...something active, something good, something satisfying those good people who died might have enjoyed doing as well.
It happened in New York and changed their community profoundly. I understand in a more minor way that was not minor at the time.I lived in Dallas when John Kennedy was shot. I got out of class at noon and heard people talking. I began running towards my dorm and the television. And from noon that day till late Sunday afternoon on a college campus, I didn't hear a single laugh. Kind of like when we didn't see a single plane flying for days.
When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was shocked to hear old classmates away at other schools were given the day off to watch Kennedy's funeral. A lot of them slept in or used the extra time to go to parties.
Not in Dallas. And all these years later, we are still a little conscious all the time of the Fifth Floor of the Book Depository Building, from which an assassin killed a president.
All these years later, the pain is still there. More in Dallas, always will be. More on the East Coast for Sept. 11, always will be.
There has to be something we can do besides sit around and cry. Or glower.
Besides, I think it will be good for my soul.
It is Sept. 12.
And yes, I've cried several times. My nine-year-old granddaughter saw a tape at school that sounds like it was pretty good. The school kids saw the new waterfalls and pools. She thought it was a nice gesture.
I tried to explain that yes, it was probably pretty nice, but the families still grieved.
Sept. 11 is supposed to be a day of commemoration and service. Didn't Obama and his daughter go help out at a soup kitchen or some such last year? Where was the service emphasis by Americans this year?
I went to church because I always do on Sunday, but I didn't go to mine. I went with some friends to theirs, and the adult Sunday School was participating in a four-week course on forgiveness.
It's healthy to forgive, of course. They also said no one should because they ought, but when they were ready. And then someone suggested I forgive the perpetrators of Sept. 11.
I don't hate the perpetrators of Sept. 11. The acts are too far over my ability even to understand. They are dead. We go on. We rebuild. But I don't forgive. I don't have to forgive evil. There's a dodge-ball organization I probably will never see with my own eyes to blame. That's all. I certainly am not mad at people of different faiths. I don't even agree with a lot of the people I'm supposed to share a faith with.
Would I let my grandchildren play with their kids? No. That's not hate.
Did we have to sit on our fat American rumps (and most of them are fat) and cry? Apparently. The news media entertained us with hours of maudlin reminescence and recapping and solemn ceremonies. And we accomplished zero good to offset the evil that still reasonates.
Next year, I'm cleaning up a park. Or I'm taking a page from the Egyptions and taking my broom down to sweep the streets around the city square.Or...something active, something good, something satisfying those good people who died might have enjoyed doing as well.
It happened in New York and changed their community profoundly. I understand in a more minor way that was not minor at the time.I lived in Dallas when John Kennedy was shot. I got out of class at noon and heard people talking. I began running towards my dorm and the television. And from noon that day till late Sunday afternoon on a college campus, I didn't hear a single laugh. Kind of like when we didn't see a single plane flying for days.
When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was shocked to hear old classmates away at other schools were given the day off to watch Kennedy's funeral. A lot of them slept in or used the extra time to go to parties.
Not in Dallas. And all these years later, we are still a little conscious all the time of the Fifth Floor of the Book Depository Building, from which an assassin killed a president.
All these years later, the pain is still there. More in Dallas, always will be. More on the East Coast for Sept. 11, always will be.
There has to be something we can do besides sit around and cry. Or glower.
Besides, I think it will be good for my soul.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Toughness is part of American DNA
How badly do Texans want rain?
Some are praying for a hurricane.
Really. It seems the only way we are going to get wet. But that isn't going to work, either. The winds don't favor us.
I do know my mouth watered as I watched Irene climb over the east coast. I keep telling you Texas is big. Irene would have covered Texas with just a little sticking out for our friends in drought-striken New Mexico and Arkansas.
That one hurricane would have ended our drought for some months, at least. After the ground was saturated, the runoff would have filled our rivers and man-made lakes. Ten to fiftheen inches of rain. Sounds delicious.
An examination of soil at the site of the Possom Kingdom Lake fires last week showed one percent of normal moisure. The fires in Bastrop County won't be truly contained, a firefighter said today, until there is rain. None is coming. The cooler temperatures and lighter winds help.
So far, about 1,000 homes burned just this week. Overall for this year in Texas? has to be several thousand. Some of these are old homesteads and Victorians that are 100 to 200 years old. Area burned 3.6 million acres, now about the size of Connecticut.
But as one man said this morning after the home he had lived in for decades burned to the ground: "I've come too far in my life to let this get me down. We'll just keep goin'."
Maybe this is my tribute to the 10th anniversary of the fall of the towers.
I remember that wonderful accent when a New York firefighter was honored for his heroism.
He gave a little shrug, a little smile, and said simply,"I'm a New Yorker."
Whether dealing with terrorists or misbehaving Mother Nature, we will survive. After ten years, the message to me is that we are a tough people, and we will survive.
That is a fact, a memory, well worth the knowing.
Some are praying for a hurricane.
Really. It seems the only way we are going to get wet. But that isn't going to work, either. The winds don't favor us.
I do know my mouth watered as I watched Irene climb over the east coast. I keep telling you Texas is big. Irene would have covered Texas with just a little sticking out for our friends in drought-striken New Mexico and Arkansas.
That one hurricane would have ended our drought for some months, at least. After the ground was saturated, the runoff would have filled our rivers and man-made lakes. Ten to fiftheen inches of rain. Sounds delicious.
An examination of soil at the site of the Possom Kingdom Lake fires last week showed one percent of normal moisure. The fires in Bastrop County won't be truly contained, a firefighter said today, until there is rain. None is coming. The cooler temperatures and lighter winds help.
So far, about 1,000 homes burned just this week. Overall for this year in Texas? has to be several thousand. Some of these are old homesteads and Victorians that are 100 to 200 years old. Area burned 3.6 million acres, now about the size of Connecticut.
But as one man said this morning after the home he had lived in for decades burned to the ground: "I've come too far in my life to let this get me down. We'll just keep goin'."
Maybe this is my tribute to the 10th anniversary of the fall of the towers.
I remember that wonderful accent when a New York firefighter was honored for his heroism.
He gave a little shrug, a little smile, and said simply,"I'm a New Yorker."
Whether dealing with terrorists or misbehaving Mother Nature, we will survive. After ten years, the message to me is that we are a tough people, and we will survive.
That is a fact, a memory, well worth the knowing.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Home Sweet Home
I actually put on a sweater this morning to go outside--temp in the 50s.
Wonderful, even if the state is burning up, which it is. (More than 1,000 homes so far, this round.)
Gracie was glad to see me yesterday, and also glad to see my oldest son, who has done most of the feeding for the past week. As usual, she has set me an example for not whimpering, whining or sulking, and making the best of it. Honestly,I have thought, "What would Gracie do?" several times recently.
I have been in the hospital, an out-of-the-blue, couldn't have planned it situation.
Met some nice people, had some really good food, and am home. Have to spend some regular time with doctors for awhile. Fortunately, the docs are very smart, and also pretty funny.
Low potassium. No precursors. A doctor hired by the hospital to solve medical mysteries like mine seems to have done it. Fascinating work--I'd like to talk to him some more. Anyway, looking back, knowing how jumbled my brain was, I'm surprised I wrote any coherant blogs. With any luck I'll improve with a more fully functional brain.
My recovery depends pretty much on taking a dose of sodium bicarb, or baking soda, every day for the rest of my life. Not expensive, or much of an impact on life otherwise.
We always brood a bit over the close calls, and this was one. I suspect not too many years ago, I might have died. Nowadays, I didn't even qualify for acute care.
I think they let me out because I had started walking the halls to get some strength back. I only know that staff had my discharge papers ready 30 minutes after the doc signed off, and I don't THINK I had been that irritating.
I had felt so bad so long, my house really needs a good scrub. And I don't LIKE housework, yet I'm looking forward to this.
Maybe I'm still a little sicker than I think I am!
Wonderful, even if the state is burning up, which it is. (More than 1,000 homes so far, this round.)
Gracie was glad to see me yesterday, and also glad to see my oldest son, who has done most of the feeding for the past week. As usual, she has set me an example for not whimpering, whining or sulking, and making the best of it. Honestly,I have thought, "What would Gracie do?" several times recently.
I have been in the hospital, an out-of-the-blue, couldn't have planned it situation.
Met some nice people, had some really good food, and am home. Have to spend some regular time with doctors for awhile. Fortunately, the docs are very smart, and also pretty funny.
Low potassium. No precursors. A doctor hired by the hospital to solve medical mysteries like mine seems to have done it. Fascinating work--I'd like to talk to him some more. Anyway, looking back, knowing how jumbled my brain was, I'm surprised I wrote any coherant blogs. With any luck I'll improve with a more fully functional brain.
My recovery depends pretty much on taking a dose of sodium bicarb, or baking soda, every day for the rest of my life. Not expensive, or much of an impact on life otherwise.
We always brood a bit over the close calls, and this was one. I suspect not too many years ago, I might have died. Nowadays, I didn't even qualify for acute care.
I think they let me out because I had started walking the halls to get some strength back. I only know that staff had my discharge papers ready 30 minutes after the doc signed off, and I don't THINK I had been that irritating.
I had felt so bad so long, my house really needs a good scrub. And I don't LIKE housework, yet I'm looking forward to this.
Maybe I'm still a little sicker than I think I am!
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