Black Doggerel

My special bird dog found me a bird :D

It was a fledgling blackbird, huddled in a little ball on the pavement on our late dog walk down Woodbury Avenue. Spike and I both missed it entirely.

It was almost fledged, strong and uninjured, so I didn't mess with it except to pick it up and move it about two feet from where Squish found it, so that it was in a hedge on the safer side of a garden fence instead of on the actual pavement. Good luck, bird.

...two people in party clothes were ringing my neighbours' doorbell just as we were leaving. HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY.

park romp = so much fun today! There's a little Italian Greyhound called Aisha that lives in one of the big houses backing onto the park, and she and her Chihuahua housemate were out playing ball. The moment we appeared Aisha came racing up to us to say hello - Squish had a small social anxiety moment and hackled and yapped at her. He always does this with strange dogs, but as long as Spike is okay about the other dog he gets over it and makes friends. We've met Aisha before and they've conversed through her garden fence, but they don't know each other all that well.

So they all played and raced around fetching balls. Spike doesn't actually play with other dogs when he has a ball because BALL ARE SRS BSNSS but Aisha raced around chasing him with her ball in her mouth while he fetched his, and he chased her when she fetched hers - he's nearly as fast as she is, which is a bit astonishing.

She is spectacularly beautiful and adorable, all huge eyes and impossibly dainty little legs, cream-coloured with a bit of blue and dark-brown brindle over her flanks and backside. Watching her run was glorious. We all had a total blast.

Spike had a brief lapse of manners when Aisha's owner threw her ball and it hit a tree. Aisha overshot and kept going but Shark Dog, of course, had his eyes on the prize. I had to pretend I was going to throw it for him and then substitute his own; he didn't object too hard though. He knew he was in the wrong. I love positive contact with other dogs. I love my dogs.

Last night I dreamed Spike had run away. He came back, and I held him because I was so glad and relieved; and then I realised that his ribs were all caved in and broken, and he was bleeding from his nose and mouth. That he'd dragged himself back to me to die in my arms.

I was lucky; for some reason it was one of those dreams where you KNOW it's a dream while you're dreaming it. I managed to wake myself up without that awful moment when you truly aren't certain whether it really happened. I still had to call him over for a cuddle but my heart had known all along that my brain was just fucking with it. Possibly the idea of Velcro Shark Dog actually running away was too unlikely to swallow; either way, I am damn grateful.

Then I load up my friendslist and find someone else with essentially the same dream about her dog. What the fuck, is it the phase of the moon or something? Incubi?

*hugs*

Squish's recall has become so much more reliable that I am allowing him some park romp time off his longleash, although I keep it on him till he's done with his independent pottering and sniffing and shown me clearly that he's in the Retrieve Zone. For a long time now, the longleash has been not really necessary for him; it's just that I only have one brain, two hands and two feet and I also have Spike. But Squish isn't built for ten-yard retrieves, he's a long-legged distance running dog and I've felt for a long time that it's not fair to keep denying him the chance to really open up. And he's been so damn good, and the joy just shines off him when I let him loose. I don't leave him loose very long because I'm still outnumbered and overdogged, but I can see it doing him good physically and emotionally. I am pleased.

Today my baby niece Maya met my dogs for the first time. Mum finally got a car seat installed so she can drive Maya around when she babysits - so she brought her to visit, and we all went to the park.

Spike was utterly awesome, as I knew he would be. My dogs may suck in a variety of situations but they are reliably good with small children, and they adore them. The evil bugger fawned over Maya beautifully and oh so gently. He showed off his mad dancing and tree climbing skillz to Maya's amusement, and he impressed my Mum by responding accurately to my "Where's Maya?" command within three minutes of seeing her for the first time.

...It's a no brainer for a Border Collie. Squish can find a ball on command but he's not capable of generalising that to finding anything else he happens to know the name of. Spike can do that easily. He did not know Maya's name, but he knew she wasn't Granny or Ball or Squish so he figured lying at her feet when I said "where's Maya?" was a safe bet. I love my clever dick dog.

Squish is not clever in quite the same way, but he is very adorable and happy and has long silky ears and made Maya giggle a lot by covering her in happy dog kisses at every opportunity. I love my silly spotted dog.

...My niece is pretty damn cool too. She's - what, two and a half now? The same age as Naamah cat, anyhow, they were born within a week of each other. She's old enough to hold conversations with and she speaks clearly and doesn't shriek. And she loves dogs and cats. And now that Mum can drive her around I should see a lot more of her - this makes me happy.

Conversation with one of Spike and Squish's friends in the park, while playing ball. Friend is a small blond boy (eight? ten?) with engaging manners and an adorable grin - one of our favourites, and one of the ones that never needs told twice not to wave sticks around Spike etc. He even remembers without being told that Spike can't have tennis balls, and refrained from teasing him with the tennis ball he had in his pocket today.

Boy: *explains to me how the rubber band around his wrist is there to ward off bad luck*
Me: My friend and I have a theory that dog pee wards off zombie attacks. That's why they have to stop and pee on every single thing; they're keeping us safe.
Boy: Ha! I'll help. *brandishes toy gun*
Then he grinned suddenly, and said: "I'll be safe when the zombies attack, anyhow. I've got no brains."

Kid, if you were thirty years older I'd marry you.

Picture this: we are in the little wooded patch behind the houses. Spike loose, Squish on his longleash. Squish is puttering about eating grass and Spike and I are sitting on the grass having a breather.

There's a bunch of kiddies in the playground. This is not a problem. Then one of them takes it into her head to come and play with Spike. This is normally not a problem either. Except she takes it into her head to come up to us holding a football above her head in one hand and a hysterically aggressive Cairn terrier's leash in the other.

Um, hello? On what planet is it a good idea to go running up to ANY loose dog that way?

My dog's a fucking hero. He did not lose it. He did help himself to the football, lifting it neatly and gently out of the girl's upstretched hand as he leapt over the exploding Cairn with three foot to spare. He very nearly leapt over the girl as well. But he put the ball down when I asked and he didn't so much as look at the bloody Cairn funny. We would have got away with no drama whatever if Squish hadn't felt it necessary to match the Cairn yelp for yelp at twice its volume.

I love my dogs.

I love it when I manage to do what I say I'm going to do. Took the dogs to Big Park for a romp. Remembered to recharge camera batteries. Remembered to take camera with. Spike was splashy. Squish was squishy.

Notice how Spike starts off with a tennis-ball sized neon ball and ends up with a football? This is why I have to keep replacing the small balls. I did not take the football home. I have four in my utility room already and we didn't buy any of them.

( Eighteen pics under the cut )