Sunday, January 16, 2022

Bridie Posts

 



I'm guessing that when a pup reaches a certain age, there's more responsibility involved than immediately stopping whatever I happen to be doing at certain times.

I hear that a lot.

No, actually I hear, "NO!"

I hear it in the bathroom where the toilet paper rolls are now up higher and out of my reach.  

I heard it a couple of times when I stood up the other night, put my front paws on the card table and took a puzzle piece.

  I thought they were treats, but I guess not. 

I've heard "NO" several times at one of the kitchen counters when I've tried to sort through the pile of mail. 

And, for some reason every single morning when I come back from the barn and grab the pot holder on the end table---which is used for opening and closing the stove door---she yells "No." 

I had never even taken a bite out of the pot holder until last night, so I don't know why she complains. 

This morning, after chores, I grabbed the potholder to work on the hole.  As usual, and my dad said, "No," and took it away from me.

It's nice to have parents on the same page, I guess.

Both my mom and dad got mad at me the other day when I bypassed the pot holder on the end table and took the TV remote instead. 

For some reason the TV went a little crazy when that happened, and it was just before a ZAGS game, so they seemed really uptight.   


Anyway, my mom told me that I had to say something on the blog today because I'm five months old.

I wanted to say "No," but I think that option is reserved for puppy parents.  

So, here goes.  

I'm new at this, so if some of it doesn't make much sense, remember that I'm a Border Collie and I'll get better.

I like my life here at the Lovestead, and I really, really like Liam. 

He's the best big brother a girl pup could have. I'm learning a lot about life on the farm from Liam. 

It took him a while to warm up to me, just like Foster, but they both seem to like me now. 

I know they care because whenever I go someplace in the car and come back home, they are there at the car door waiting for me. 

Once I get out, they gather round and sniff me from stem to stern. 

I guess they just want to know that it's really me coming home. 

Foster also meets me at the door and sniffs me all over when I come out of my crate in the morning. 

Foster didn't like me at first cuz I was getting too much attention, but once my mom decided that just Liam and I would go to the run, while Foster could run loose around the place, he was really happy cuz he could be top dog. 

I enjoy the days around here.  In the early morning, I get to go to the barn with Mom while she does her horse chores.  

It's pretty neat to curl up in the hay, behind a gate, of course, and watch those great big horses walk past me down the aisle to go outside. 

There's only one problem with my time spent in the barn:  that cat called Sunny.

She looks at me.  

That makes me nervous.

Sometimes, she even comes over and sits on the bag of shavings right in front of the gate to where I stay in the hay.  Then, she stares at me close up and meows at me, and that really scares me.

So, every morning when we leave the barn, I transition into my Border Collie stance and look both ways to see that she's not looking back at me.

During the day, I go to the run with Liam or occasionally down in the field next to the lane. I've learned that barking does not get me out of the run.

I can't wait until a bunch of the snow is gone so we can spend time in the south woods and maybe even back in the hay field where I was able to play off leash before the snow came.  

At night, the three of us dogs usually lounge around and veg out in the house, but there's always a time, which Mom calls my "witching hour," when I go bonkers, wrestling with Liam and running circles around the dining room table or through the hallway and living room.

When I get too carried away, I hear another word, which has become a regular in my ever-growing Border Collie vocabulary.  

"CRATE," she will command.  

I usually first respond with a pathetic, wounded look, but if I don't go straight to the crate, she says it again. 

She's pretty impressed with how quickly I can scamper into that crate, once I decide there are no other choices. 

Mom calls that lockdown my "time-out" period, so I just go to sleep for a while. 

So far, after almost two months, I can say life is fun here at the Lovestead with my parents and my pup pals.  

I've got a lot to learn before they ever let me just run loose.  For now, though, I know one thing for sure.  

My folks and my pals love me, and that's the most important. 

I'll keep working to be a "good dog." 

Mom said to finish my essay with "Happy Sunday," so I did.  



A typical evening with Liam, Bill, Bridie and Foster. 











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