As Sunday mornings go it’s quite nice. A little dusting of snow, not windy, not too cold. Perfect for a nice stroll over the moors and through the woods with Velcrodog.
At the moment I’m in the process of trying to cure Velcro of his need to be 100 yards in front of me on our walks. Which if you think about it kind of makes the name ‘Velcro’ a bit redundant. Something more like ‘Buggeroffanddoyourownthing’ would be more apt on these walks.
Anyway, the new training regime entails me totally shattering the peace of the morning every minute or so by hollering out, “Not too far” or “Wait there” or I SAID WAIT!” when he decides not so much to wait as so just slow down a bit for a couple of seconds.
The temptation of course is to just let him suit himself and amble along behind him but as someone who considers herself a responsible dog owner I don’t want him so far away from me that I’m not in control of any situation that might rear it’s ugly head. He is getting the idea though. Slowly. I never knew I had the patience of Job.
Does it still count as being patient if you are really cursing and making ample use of Anglo Saxon under your breath every time you shout, while praising the dog in a bright and breezy voice when he does it right?
The denizens of this town must be so fed up of hearing me.
When we get home from our walks I give the Velcro a good rub down with a towel and a quick spritz of leave in shampoo, after which he flops down on his bed and have a kip for an hour. I think I should do the same thing. It’s exhausting.