Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Ah reader, today is going to be a good day. Even if all my original plans for the day have been derailed by a rather nasty sore throat, at least my voice has changed to pleasantly croaky instead of its usual borderline shrill. I amuse myself to no end by croaking at the dog. He can't understand why the creature before him looks like me but doesn't talk like me, and after jumping up at me and barking in my face, he gives up on the mystery and chases his tail till he's dizzy. Then I laugh wheezily, which sets him off all over again. We're easily amused in these parts.
I gave up on my plan of going on a long run and stayed in to play with the dog instead. Playing with him these days is quite a production, because he will not stop trying to dig up the lawn. He's also embarrassingly disobedient, which means each time I catch him trying to dig up the lawn, I can't command him to stop. I have to run at him and chase him away, which he of of course thinks is tremendous fun, so we do it over and over again till I break the cycle by offering him a biscuit. It's a lowering thought that even with my dog, the only way I can command obedience is through bribery.
Still, once I lure him in with the biscuit, I catch hold of his collar. I'm polite and wait for him to finish chewing. He shows me no such courtesy. Once he's done eating his biscuit, he promptly rolls over and kicks up at me, trying everything he can to make me let go. I get covered in grass and dog hair and streaks of mud, but I hold on doggedly till I can drag him, still kicking, to the verandah, where I reattach his leash and march him off for a bath.
Most other dogs I've bathed have stood miserable and still while I played the water over them. Panda protests, vociferously. I need to watch him carefully and steer clear of his teeth. He also rears up on his hind legs and waves his forepaws about, which I have learnt through experience, can do quite a bit of damage. Still, eventually, I manage to get him bathed, dried and powdered and back indoors. Now he's collapsed under the bed with all the consciousness of a job well done, and I am collapsed on my chair, sweaty, dishevelled, mud-streaked and triumphant.  

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