I’m behaving a lot better around other dogs now, and getting a lot better about scoping out a situation and behaving accordingly. I wouldn’t say I’ve grown up completely, but hey, I’ve come a long way, baby. And with people? Once I got over my early fear of joggers and bicyclists, I haven’t met a person I haven’t liked. As you can see from the accompanying photo, I am free with my kisses.
Kids, however; well, kids have been another story. Not sure why, but they seem to make me nervous, even frightened. If I see one coming, I normally like to take a wide berth. Or worse, bark at them while wagging my tail and backing up.
But Halle, who lives around the block from us, has been persistent. She really loves dogs, and her mom told Mike she wants to be a vet when she grows up. For now, she’s starting out by working hard to make me be her friend. When she comes to the park in the morning with her mom and their dog Dana (a lab who is more interested in her ball than in me), she always runs up to see me, and Mike slips her some Charlie Bears to lure me to her. At first I was too timid to take the bait, but then I began swiping it quickly and slinking back behind Mike.
But Halle wouldn’t give up, and her mom says she talks about me all the time at home. So recently I finally started to warm up to her, at least a little bit. Last week I let her walk me on a leash a few feet, and last Saturday when she brought her sister Riley around while we were in the park pulling weeds, I let both of them get close to me and give me a hug. A close-up one, you know, head to head . And this week I was out in the front of the house in my exercise pen when I saw them walking up the street toward me, so I started to bark excitedly. I was actually glad to see them, and when they came over and petted me, I shut right up and wagged my tail! Not even the UPS guy comes over and pets me like that (although he has other charms).
Mike tells me that the girls are heading back east to spend most of the summer with their grandma and family in someplace called Quebec, where all they’ll swim all day and eat something called poutine. Based on what I’ve heard about this Canadian delicacy, I am decidedly jealous. They better bring me some, or I may pretend not to remember them when they return.