Adventures of New Puppy

Friday was Ginger's visit to the vet, who pronounced her perfect in every way.  No kennel cough in evidence.  A weight gain of seven pounds.  Time for an adventure!

On Saturday, I took Ginger up to the barn to meet her really big brother, Ace.  She was appropriately apprehensive, unlike Dexter who thought the horses should respond to barking and play-bows by, well, playing.  Ginger had a rough and tumble time with Gayle's Aussie shepherd, Eli, even though she was on a lead.  After Ace finished his lesson, she got a chance to get a little bit closer.

Willie, a Haflinger, was less intimidating, so she got even closer.

I would call it a successful visit to the barn and she even got a lesson in walking on the leash from Gayle.

On Sunday, she had us in hysterics and reminded us of a poem we once heard Tim Curry read at the L.A. Public Library. The poem is from an anthology called Unleashed: Poems by Writers' Dogs.  This four line poem is called "Birch" and it is by Karen Shepherd.  Every dog owner I know understands this poem.

Are you going to eat that?
Are you going to eat that?
Are you going to eat that?
I'll eat that!

Our friend Lisa, subject of this display of dog cuteness, does volunteer work for a pet adoption charity, so she was not all bothered by having Ginger hover near by looking for a hand-out.

Some Happy News

After months of missing out on adoptable Golden Retrievers, we got a call about a three year old dog before he his picture was posted on the Southern California Golden Retriever Rescue website. We drove out to Rancho Cucamonga to meet him--and we brought him home. I'll have pictures after his bad haircut grows out and a professional groomer gets to him. Apparently, he was neglected and terribly matted, and the kind person who cleaned him up cut off most of his feathers.

Our two old girls (Sheba will be 14 in December, Muffin will be 14 in February) are dealing with the new kid by requesting more attention (Sheba) or ignoring him (Muffin.) There's been no growling, barking, or blood, so things are settling in.

He does like to play. He'll catch a ball for as long as you will throw it. He leaps straight up into the air to catch. He's very good at tug of war. I see Frisbee and agility training in his future.

He pulls on a lead, but he knows his own name and stops on a dime if he's called. And he's house trained. All important points.

Len let him on the bed with us last night. It's been four or five years since either of the girls could get up on the bed. I woke up to find him under the covers. He's quite a bed warmer, which will be more appreciated in January than in September.

There's nothing more fun than a house full of Golden Retrievers, if you can live with the hair.