Summer is just cruising along. There have been some bumps in the road - Kristie's fractured arm (for which she is seeing a bone specialist for a cast as I type) and all of the water saturating our basement - but so far so good. My classes at the ALC continue to surprise me. A majority of the kids are willing to work. A minority are not. But how is that different from any other class?
*****
Yesterday afternoon - with the kids at their father's - Kristie and I attempted to take the dogs for a brief walk. Now there are several difficult things about this. First, Kristie's definition of a 'walk' differs wildly from mine. Hers: arms pumping, eyes focused, and everything about her says 'work, hurry, work, get that heart rate up, focus, hurry, work . . ." across town. Mine: meandering and daydreaming for a few blocks. However, she promised we would walk "at your (meaning my) pace." The second problem is in the form of Kozy. Unlike Joker, who is a model walker (after only one run with me, he already knows the route and what side to stay on), Kozy, though, is an absolute terror. She constantly pulls on the leash, as if she can't get anywhere quite fast enough. Of course, this makes the walker (me, of course) have to lean back to keep her from pulling me down the damn street. The last time we went for a 'walk,' my forearm was quite sore from having to restrain her. Of course, all of her pulling results in her choking. You'd think she'd get the hint and just trot along with slack in the rope. NOOOOO. She constantly keeps it taught - to the point of passing out. After a few blocks she is foaming at the mouth and hoarse from gasping so much.
We had only taken a few steps when Kozy fell into her normal routine while Kristie and Joker just cruised along. Not wanting to fight with her the entire walk, I turned around to leave her back at home. Suddenly, walking in the opposite direction, she stopped pulling and just trotted along. I was astounded. So I turned back around to try it again. But as soon as I headed in our original direction - east toward main street, she became psycho mutt again.
Kristie thought maybe she was competing with Joker, so I turned her around again. We walked west. Sure enough, she was a model walker. She was great all the way to our house. So I figured maybe she could just walk west. I mean, who knows with this dog? But as soon as we passed our house, she began straining at the leash and lathering at the mouth. She must only be able to walk over an area that she is familiar with or something. For the sake of my sanity, I ended up stashing her in the house while Joker, Kristie, and I went for our walk.
Any suggestions? Oh yeah, if anyone out there in blogger knows how to stop a dog from digging holes, PLEASE advise me! She has turned our back yard into a replica of the Gaza strip. This summer she has focused on one part of the back yard right next to our sidewalk. She dug down about two feet. I beat her with a belt and filled it in. She was fine for a few days. Then I returned home to find dirt strewn across the sidewalk and the crater next to the sidewalk. Again the belt. Again she was fine, but she dug again. I tried a stick this time instead of the belt. She actually yipped a few times at the stick. She just cowered and took the belt. I filled in the hole again (by now the lawn in front of our propane tank looks like the moon with all of the divots I've left there while trying to keep Kozy from digging up the same hole. And what the hell happens to all of the dirt? I can never fill the hole back in with the dirt she digs out. Does she eat it? I just have to remember to fill in the divots by fall or our poor propane delivery man will break an ankle.) So far she has been okay. But that is just because I switched her to the other side of the yard - the side where I know the electrical lines are, so maybe she'll cut through one and my problem will be solved. Just kidding.
But violence was the last option.
Here is a list of things I've tried.
1. Pepper. This was Dad's brilliant idea. That worked about as well as the Maginot Line. All it really did was season the dirt for her.
2. Tabasco sauce. This was my take on Dad's brilliant idea. I poured it into the dirt when I filled the holes back in. But that didn't' stop her. So then I poured it into her nose as I stuck her head in the hole. I could only imagine how horrible this must have felt. I have never snorted tabasco sauce -and hopefully never will - unless there is some form of pet revenge in the afterlife where Kozy will be waiting for revenge - but I know it smells bad enough and my sense of scent is nothing compared to a dog's. But I felt too bad and stopped.
3. Moth balls. Someone at a birthday party suggested this. I thought this one would work too - considering how horrible the moth balls smelled when I opened the box. And I guess they worked better than anything else up to this point. But this spring I was out in the yard raking and I caught the unmistakable odor of moth balls. Sure enough. There were several dug up around the propane tank. So much for that.
4. The belt. Mentioned above.
5. The stick. Now broke in two. Still in use.
Other suggestions?
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