Thursday, April 26, 2012

Jack Russell Games

Took Jack to the vet yesterday to get his rabies shot.  All went surprisingly well until the time came for his treat.  Jack doesn't like treats.  That is to say, he likes them, but they have to be delivered in a Jack Russell kind of way.  He says that just taking a proffered biscuit is for labradors.   With Jack, presentation is all.  And more important still, it has to be a game.  Slowly reach for the bag on top of the fridge.  You have his attention.  Slower still take out a biscuit.  His eyes will be glued on you.  Offer it to him and he walks away disappointed and bored.  BUT.  Look at the biscuit and say, 'this looks like a BAD bikkie".  Ears up.  "This is a very bad bikkie."  Jack flattens himself on the floor and growls.  "This bikkie is going to GET YOU!"  Jack crouches and hops backward.  It is then that my husband (for it is he who colluded with Jack to play this stupid game) must get on the floor and move forward with the biscuit in his hand all the while saying "bad bikkie".  Jack growls.  He feints side to side.  He turns his back and looks over his shoulder.  He jumps.  He lunges.  He TAKES THE BIKKIE! 
Clearly, I was not going to explain this to the vet.  I just said, "he won't take it".  "Oh yes he will," said the vet in a I-am-a-vet-madam-and-I-know-what-I'm-talking-about kind of way.   "They love these."  In common with many vets I have known through the years, he is not all that great with people, but he knows animals.  He offered the special meaty treat to Jack who just sat there on the table looking at him.  "He won't take it," I said quietly.  "They ALL love this," he said.  "Here you go, boy.  Come on, boy."  Jack looked at him. The vet looked ...peeved. He went to a drawer and took out a rawhide chew.  Jack adores rawhide chews.  The vet offered it to him. Jack took it and threw it on the floor.  I gathered up my pet, picked the chew off the floor, mumbled apologies to Dr Grumpy and left.  We stopped at the bank on the way home and the girls all gathered at the drivethough window to watch Jack take the biscuit they send out in the drawer.  That is to say they watch him not take the biscuit.  They used to think it was because the biscuits were too big, so they break them into little pieces.  Jack likes the drawer part and he likes the girls, he just doesn't like the biscuits.  They aren't bad enough.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

What, me mad?

I looked up just now and saw three airplanes.  This is unusual.  Then a fourth.  Then a low noisy one with water ski things on it. What is going on?  Has Kim Jong Un, the GREAT SUCCESSOR, in his disappointment and mortification over yesterday's rocket flop, decided to invade Maine?  Should I put my dog on the roof of the car a la the GREAT CHALLENGER and head for the hills?  Wait.  I'm in the hills. 
I've got to get out more.  Between the news and the presidential campaign I'm losing my grip.  Add to this a 3 day bout with the cold from hell during which time I was fever struck, drugged to the gills and in the thrall of Mad Men.  I watched 24 episodes in 2 days.  I stopped only to prepare breakfast for guests.  Oh yes.  There were guests.  I was encased in rubber gloves and disinfectant and made up to look healthy. I tried to avoid their gaze as the glittery eyes of a mad woman in the kitchen wielding knives is off putting to some people.   But here I am, back to normal.  I said, here I am, back to normal.