Earlier today I’m over reading a new post by NivaLaDiva over @RidingBitch and I was inspired to write about Irish and me this week. It has been a trial.

RidingBitch {teehee got to say it again} has the beautiful lil’Ruby and they’re in LA. Her post got me thinking about how these companions certainly change things, and reset your priorities a bit. I have needs, but her’s are just as valuable to my well-being; important lesson learned this week.

So FluffyB books it. It’s not like she’s leaving town…she just decides she’d had enough of the sidelines, she wanted some of the action too. So wham bam, off her lead. At night. She never usually does it at night. So boots on, out the door, yelling like a moron IRISH. IRISH. At Irish Lake. I feel like I’m lost and calling to the Lake. I might as well be, for the good it does me.

Ok, so why do I even bother? If she can just yank and boom? Ask someone who knows, not I. Gives me peace of mind to think I perhaps influence why Irish does what she does. Sometimes though I have to wonder.

Now Irish’s one main goal, usually, is the smells. She is addicted to smells. In LOVE with smells. A walk with Irish is an exercise in patience.

Over the course of the last few months I have had to adjust my strategy. I now take pictures based on … well if we are completely honest, based often on where Bronte peed. Bronte is a Yorkie. He was a rescue found wandering the streets of New Orleans, and is now the canine pal of the Dr & Mrs S down the lane. Cute little thing…and the size of Irish’s head. Size is irrelevant to FluffyB. To her HE’S Da MAN.

So these walks are generally slow, leisurely strolls through ankle high snow, with stops now again to stick ones head into the snow and smell, I would imagine primarily pee, poop (dog, raccoon, rabbit, horse … etc) I’m not particularly interested. I suppose I would have to be a dog to get why she MUST stick her head right into the snowdrift. I guess that is why she has all that fur on her nose … all the better to keep the snow out of the eyes … well, duh?

Now of course pee gets an extra special extended and oh so delicate sniff. Like it’s a rare lovely treat…oh the sweet scent of …  {rolling eyes}

Ok, so there is NO REASON for FluffyB to romp away. She has been walked, if one can call it that. It’s alot of standing on my end.

TWICE. FluffyB took a stroll both Sunday and Monday night.

She comes back. Oh, have no fear. She always returns…and the longest she was gone was 2 hours, but that was a couple of years ago. Recently she’s usually back within a half hour. Both nights this week it was just 10 minutes.

The general reasoning that convinces her that this is a good idea, escapes me. However, the first night it was GOTTA GO DOWN AND SNIFF THE PEE OF THE NEW DOG. On Monday night, I’m thinking scraps from D’s family and friends up at his cottage.

And incidentally, on the walk today she “found” a pork bone in a snow drift. I was a little suspicious of that. I wonder often who leads whom in this relationship. I often wonder that actually, lately.

Anyways, that first night I just ignored her. She comes in the door, head down, right to her crate. I say not ONE word. At no point do I make eye contact. I did that for maybe 2 hours. Lets her know her actions don’t meet with approval. Pack order. What I say goes’, capiche Canine !?!

This is the battle we have. Who says I too can’t have it right back in my face just because I didn’t have kids? Never thought I’d get it from my dog.

The funny thing is, just like with children, everyone thinks Irish is just the most well behaved dog; she’s just golden sunshine. Normally, she is.

So late that night whilst turning the light on in the living-room she gives me a little “lick on the back of the heel”.

Of course she still slept with me. Good grief, I’m not THAT mean. I have a white cotton cover over the comforter … Tim would never have approved of this arrangement. Oh well.  The cold nose and kisses are lovely too, I guess.

She was so excited she actually fell right off the bed. BANG. I couldn’t stop laughing. She was disgusted with me after about 5 minutes straight of me giggling.

I have to give Irish credit though. Her previous owner told me that she would completely ignore her boyfriend when he called her. He’d be yelling at her…and Irish I guess would just completely and absolutely ignore him, all the time. To her, he was a nothing.

Apparently she was right on … I guess the fellow didn’t stay long after Irish exited. I have no clue what happened, but Irish didn’t think much of him. At least not enough to actually acknowledge he existed.

I don’t know who won this round. Maybe it was a tie. For some reason though she thinks she deserves a treat  EVERY TIME she comes in and doesn’t run away. AH, no.