Tuesday, June 15, 2010

My Favorite Waste of Time

Another pic of the Baby

He has now been with me three and half weeks. I am exhausted. How do new mothers do it?  I am TRYING to teach him that ONE bark is sufficient and not to be a yappy dog.

He is catching on SLOWLY.

I have set up a temporary dog run at the campsite. In the morning, while I am suffering through my first cup of coffe, I throw open the door, and tie him to his dog run. I try to do some necessary work while he plays outdoors.

I toss a few toys out with the dog. If he is QUIET, I let him play and run and tangle up the dog run leads. The minute I hear the slightest sound out of him, I go running out the door.  Sometimes it's just a One Bark to get my attention that he has wrapped his line around the tires or a tree or his legs or usually, all three at once.

Now and then,  he sets up a commotion, and I dash out, scold him for being so noisy and bring him inside to be quiet. So now he gets it...  sort of.

A quiet doggy gets to play outside on the dog run while I work. A noisy doggy has to come inside.

If all I hear is the ONE bark, I run to check on him. That way he knows, that ONE BARK, does get my attention and there is really no need to be yappy. One bark and here I come!

*SIGH*

As I write this, he has become YAPPY!  I run out and see. He has made a huge mess of his dog run lines.  I was trying to untangle the mess, and the little urchin ran circles around me, tying up my ankles, so I could no longer walk.

This caused the neighbors in the next campsite, endless laughter.

I finaly got us both freed again, but had to take my shoes off, he had the rope running between my foot and sandal and I had to take it off and he took off running, which sent my sandal flying up in the air.

More laughter from the other campers.

I hobble over to get my sandal back on. The tiny miscreant has run inside the motorhome, and grabbed his Bo-Bo, his favorite toy and dragged it outside. It's too big for him,and it drags the ground. So now Bo-Bo is covered in dirt, pine needles and leaves.

Good grief.

I go out again and we play with the tennis ball and the football. When Harley isn't looking, I trow the bedraggled Bo-Bo back inside and try to clean him up.

It's hopeless.

This little squirt has rapidly become my favorite waste of time.





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