Friday, December 10, 2004

Prussia vs Berlin

Feeling more than a bit cabin feverish, Sara and I put on boots, fleece, and coats with hoods and slogged outside in the 35 degree drizzle. Emma, the force behind the slogging, leaped ahead down the steps from the deck to the backyard. Sara and I came a bit more slowly, wet wood and all, and alighted on the grass.

"OK, Sara, here we are, where do you want to go?"

"Check on barn."

"OK, we'll go check on bar-har-Watch!-NO!"

Splat.
Her boot hits a large pile of poo square on.

Grrrrr. "BAD DOG! Ooooooh. Baaaaaad Dog!" Emma hangs her head in shame for .27 seconds and then dances off to smell things.

Sigh. Yes, when one has a dog, it is usual to have to watch where you step. Unless you had the world's most rigid follower-of-the-rules dog, Maia. For Maia, the law was the law. Pooping and peeing only happened in one place, initially in ivy, and then with the move to the Midwest, she condescended to consider tall grass as an alternate. Actually, this lead to problems in our 1st corss-country drive with Maia, when I was pregnant with Colin. We drove to Minneapolis to see my sister, bringing Maia. Unfortunately, there is no ivy at all along the way for a dog pit stop. She held all excretions for almost 24 hrs, finally letting loose in some long grass in Idaho. And she felt bad for doing so. Maia was clearly Prussian at heart.

Emma is from Berlin. 1933 Berlin. The Berlin of Cabaret, where moral codes were loose. You see, she just doesn't see the point of following our rules. If she knows you are watching, she will go to the dog pooping place by the line of small evergreen trees. If not, she will go anywhere she damn well pleases. Like the foot of the deck stairs. She will steal food if she thinks she won't get caught. With Maia, you could set your plate on the floor and walk away, knowing she would not touch it. Emma will steal the kids' toys. She will sneak dirty items of clothing out of the laundry basket to lie on (something I find strange). She will not always come when called. She is just a naughty dog.

So we all took a soggy walk around the back 40, checked on the barn (an empty 20' X 20' structure that used to house 2 horses but now houses a lawn mower and gas cans) and worked up an appetite for lunch, which we ate with Emma curled on my feet.

So she is a naughty, sweet dog. Lucky for her.

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2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sounds as if Emma has hit the "terrible two's" of puppy training. Could it be that since Maia was an "only child" when her training took place she was a bit more focused - as were her trainers? Aah, the life of parenthood where you are outnumbered! Just think, you have the teenage years ahead of you - and for girls they sometimes hit between 8 - 10! Enjoy everyone while you can.

C.

3:39 PM  
Blogger The Lioness said...

"The Berlin of Cabaret, where moral codes were loose." - Nooo, the Berlin of Bent, did you ever see it? The beginning is mind-blowing. Definitely sisters, our dogs, mine is also bad behaved.

2:12 PM  

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