I hit a rough slump with Ted over the past couple of days. After our eventful trip to Mimi’s house, he seemed wary around me and refused to go on walks even though he was walking really well before the weekend. I took small comfort in the fact that JG was having a hard time with walking Ted, too, and we discussed the line between a firm decision to walk and abusive dragging, though I wasn’t sure I could tell the difference in trying to assert myself as the alpha dog, as the books recommend. Discouraged, I tried not to think about all of those well-meaning dog owners who end up being dog abusers. Then, last night, I noticed that Ted was limping, trying not to put weight on his back right leg. Even worse, I had my panic all to myself since JG was at a meeting for school. What if I had hurt him in my aggressive attempts to make him walk that morning? What if his hesitation was actually pain? Of course, when JG got back from his meeting, Ted was fit as a fiddle and my paranoid delusions took full flight. “What if he was just doing it around me? What if he felt better because you came home?!”
JG waved me off. “It’s probably nothing. He just popped something out of place, that’s all.”
“Please don’t minimize what I saw.”
He stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you saw him favor that leg. But Ted might have had a splinter or something and was only just realizing that it hurt when you noticed. If he’s fine in the morning, he’s fine. You were right to worry.”
Okay.
Despite a rough time with the morning walk, yesterday was much better. JG and I took Ted for his very first visit to the pet store, where we got a shiny new tag and a big, fat rope toy for chewing. Ted also encountered an enormous Great Dane puppy and he wasn’t quite sure how to react. My goodness, those legs were at least as long as mine. When we got home, JG suggested that we try a walk all together and — hallelujah! — Ted finally cooperated. The three of us trotted around the neighborhood and waved to the people sitting out on their porches. I loved being out in the fresh air and feeling as though Ted and I could make a habit out of this walking thing. I felt like the three of us were a family or something. It was kind of spooky, but mostly good.
JG put the new tag on Ted’s collar when we got back in the house and, now, in addition to the clickety-clack of toenails on the wood floor, we hear a sharp, high jangle of the tag against the metal fittings on his blue collar. It’s a happy sound, like puppy sleigh bells.
Tune in to Roosday-Tuesday and Wednesday-Bensday for the other two-thirds of the doggie cuteness trifecta!
5 comments
I love Ted! AS and I saw a little Westie puppy at the dog run on Sunday, and since then we’ve been emailing photos of Westies and other puppies to each other under the subject line “I Want To Live At Your House.” Sigh. Someday.
The first dog that was even remotely appealing to me was a Westie named Roxy. The breed is very likable, judging from the reactions of our neighbors. Beware the lure of PetFinder… very dangerous.
I love the new tag. It’s very proper looking.
Don’t you just love that collar jingle? We take Ben’s collar off at night (because we don’t love the jingle when we’re trying to sleep), and it always amazes me how quiet he is without it. It’s like he’s moving around in stealth mode. Apparently I have a hard time remembering that the collar jingle is not a sound that dogs naturally make when they move around.
I love it - that the tag jingle would be an inherent dog noise. It certainly makes him sound cheerful, which is great.
I love his new tag! It’s just so…Ted.
Rufus has a nice little tag that makes a happy jingle when he walks. His sister used to have a nice little tag. She’s still got the tag, but it’s all chewed up. Apparently metal tastes good in Rufus land.
Ted is a little thrown off by the jingling, so he’s started to do this thing where he tries to bite it, but he keeps shuffling backward in an effort to get it. It’s hilarious. JG thinks we should put it on YouTube…
Ah, the collar jingle. We had to take the rabies tag and the microchip tag off Henry’s collar because Mr. Bogangles was keeping us up all night. Now he just sports his ID tag, and it still gives us that cheerful “get ready for a surprise pounce attack” warning, but it’s much less annoying at night.
Ack, surprise pouncing? I think I am definitely not a cat person. The horrible cat allergy might also be a clue.
Oh my gosh, you HAVE to put the shuffling backward up on YouTube! That sounds hilarious!
Ben chewed on his tags for a long time after he got them, too. They hung at just the right height that he could contort his neck and get the tags in his mouth. We knew we should stop him, but it was so cute! Anyway, he doesn’t do it anymore, and now he just has scratched-up tags. But it was fun while it lasted.
Ha. Since we all know that I am a sucker for the peer pressure, maybe I’ll try to get Ted to do it this weekend …
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