It's another one of those weekends that flew by too quickly. I'm having trouble believing that it's Sunday evening again. I was talking to my mother this weekend and we were talking about how time moves so much more quickly when you're an adult. As a child, it's measured by school days, vacations and weekend. A day seems much longer when you don't have any obligations other than school.
For adults, at least adults who work, time is measured by evenings and weekends. It becomes blocks of time. The blocks must account for errands and responsibilities as well as relaxation time. For every free evening, there's laundry to be done, groceries to be bought, dogs to be walked. I'm sure with children, there's even less time.
Weekends just fly by...that's all there is to it though, I suppose, when I was in school they always went by too quickly so I suppose some things don't change that much when you become an adult.
Still, I can't complain. I had a nice weekend. I went back to my parents just so I didn't have to spend the weekend by myself. My parents took me out to eat on Saturday. Unfortunately, it was one of those bad server experiences where our waitress forgot to put in our order. Thus, we ended up waiting almost 30 minutes for our entrees to arrive. In the end, we got our meal for free which was very kind of them but after you've sat there for 30 minutes getting more and more frustrated, the food never tastes as nice as it would have normally.
The pups always enjoy a trip back to my parents or their 'grandparents' as I refer to them. Sookie, especially, enjoys her visits. My parents have three dogs of their own. My dad has always taken pleasure in disturbing the dogs peace by winding them up and getting them excited by chasing them and playing with them. One of my parents' dogs, Oscar, a yorkie, is a yapper. He barks at EVERYTHING. My dad takes great pleasure in getting Oscar to "shout" at him which basically means Oscar chases him around and barks. A lot.
My dad has recently been playing with Sookie. She's always been a bit more vocal that Rory but it seems that thanks to my dad, Sookie has discovered her bark. She absolutely loves it when my dad winds her up and gets her to woof her little heart out. It's fun to watch because Sookie has so much fun.
The only problem is that it's very hard to get Sookie to turn off her bark. Thus, when we come back home, Sookie likes to continue to woof. She's starting to join in the chorus of the Dog Whisperer's beasts. She now barks anytime anyone walks by the house. She's just enjoying the sound of her bark.
It's hard to tell my dad not to play with her because it's clearly something Sookie loves and I love to see my dogs happy. It's just a little hard to find a way to get a dachshund to understand that it's not so ok to bark at her own house.
I'm going to have to figure out a way to do that. Either that, or curtail granddad's habit of getting her wound up and barking.
She's not my only problem child. My number one, mayhem-maker, is Rory. As I've mentioned whenever one of the pups is doing something she shouldn't, it's always Rory. Rory's the one who wriggles under the toolshed to catch a bunny when she can squeeze through a gap. Rory's the one who squeezes through the tiniest gap in my parents' fence to go running out in the field next door. Rory's the one who burys her head in the snow, comes out looking like an eskimo-dog and then gets an ear infection. She's the one with mud on her nose, leaves attached to her underbelly and cobwebs on her ears.
Now, Rory has taken to ice-skating. My parents have two fish ponds out back, connected by a deck and with a waterfall. My dad took the time to put nets over the ponds to deter the puppies from walking on the frozen surface. Unfortunately, Rory doesn't care about nets and if you don't watch her, she's found to be standing on the frozen pond edging closer and closer to the unfrozen part near the waterfall.
I don't think it's likely the ice will give way. She's only 13 pounds and the ice is pretty solid. More, I'm worried she'll skid or fall and end up falling into the unfrozen part of the pond. Thus, my new hobby has become watching-Rory-When-She's-Outside-To-Make-Sure-She's-Not-Up-To-No-Good.
Rory is often up to no good. It's in her nature. She's just that kind of dog. She doesn't mean to be naughty. She just is. It's just her personality.
She's currently asleep on the couch. Sookie is curled up next to her. It's times like this that I realize that for all the trouble she causes, I wouldn't trade her for the world. It's those big brown eyes and the tilt of her head that gets me; she looks like she's actually listening when I talk to her, even if I'm telling her off.
Of course, she currently has a huge splodge of mud on her nose but, well, if she didn't, I'd probably be worried.