Wednesday, March 30, 2011
My Dog Can't Tell Time
She wants to take a walk.
Most mornings after the kids get on the bus a group of moms and dogs take a quick walk down the street and around the little fake lake park area. The women chat and once we get to the lake walking path, all but one dog who has a particular weakness for cats, get to run off leash.
Shadow loves it. Loves it. After we started the habit, she would start the squeaky whiny imploring as soon as Amanda came down for breakfast at 6:30.
"It's not time," I'd tell her. "We don't go until Kyle gets on the bus at 8:15."
Of course I don't expect my dog to be able to tell time, but she does know the difference between the big grown-up girl child and the little wild boy-child and that we have never once stepped outside in the dark early morning when Amanda catches her bus.
But why is she hounding me (pun totally intended) at 6:00 p.m.? Well it's Wednesday. On Mondays and Wednesdays she doesn't get to go on the walk, because I have to leave right after Kyle gets on the bus.
She's usually okay in the backyard once she realizes that she's not going. I just leave her outside. She actually loves it outside, which we weren't sure she would in suburbia as opposed to her semi-rural playground in Connecticut. So whenever she comes in on Wednesday after I'm back home -- sometimes 2:00 p.m., sometimes 4:30 p.m. or later -- she thinks it's time to go for a walk.
Sometimes I listen, but other times I try to reason with her. It's not much different from reason with a child who has his or her mind set on something that they think they are being deprived of.
She did eventually catch on to the fact that there was no need getting all psyched up that early in the morning, so maybe if I give her a calendar, she'll know that Mondays and Wednesdays and the weekends are out for first-thing in the morning strolls?