One day, when my two oldest daughters were in 7th grade, Lynn asked if she could wear eye liner to school.
“Absolutely not,” I replied adamantly putting that silly notion to rest.
The next morning as I was driving them to school, I looked over at Lynn and she had eye liner on.
I blew a gasket.
“I thought I told you you couldn’t wear eye liner?” I asked angrily.
Lisa, her twin, and always the peace maker piped up from the back seat, “She was going to bring the eye liner to school and put it on in the bathroom Mom, I told her to just wear it and see what happened.”
Right then and there I realized, despite your desire to keep your children from doing something you don’t think they should, they are living growing beings and need to experience and learn in their own time. I also decided I’d much rather have an honest, trusting relationship with my daughters, than have them sneaking around behind my back.
It would seem, the same holds true for your relationship with your dogs.
I was reminded of this story yesterday, after the dogs and I came back from our afternoon walk.
I’m sorry for what you are about to read. I tried to stop her, I really did.
I put Sampson and Delilah in the back yard while I went about digging out some wood so I could stock the fire before I went back to work.
Neither one of the dogs had pooped on our walk (you can’t blame there, there really isn’t anywhere to go, unless it’s the street). I should have kept that thought in the forefront of my mind, but I didn’t and went about the business of digging out the wood.
I threw a few pieces onto the tarp and as I turned around, Sampson came bounding down the hill, doing his impression of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
You know the part where Clarice kisses Rudolph and Rudolph flies through the air yelling, “She thinks I’m cute”? Sampson does something similar. Except he does it after he takes a dump. He’s all happy, like a great weight has been dropped, and he bounds joyfully. Hubby and I always say, “I pooped, I pooped.”
So here comes Sampson bounding down the hill, I glance over at him then up to the deck where Delilah was just 5 seconds ago, only she’s not there.
My ‘mother intuition’ screams, turn around. I do and there she is, up on the hill cleaning up after Sampson.
Hubby and I have been working hard at cleaning up after the dogs so there is nothing in the yard for her clean up. I also am working her hard on our walks with the “leave it” command where she gets rewarded for not eating the disgusting stuff.
BUT it seems like the harder I try to keep her away from it, the sneakier she gets about trying to eat it.
SO, The moral (if there is a moral) of this story is this:
Dogs, much like teenagers, are sneaky little shits.
Recent Comments