What a great night last night! I won't say that Everett slept straight through, but she was obviously resting more comfortably than she probably has in at least a week. I am not sure why I know this--I swear every time she moves I wake up and turn on the light to make sure she's okay. But when the alarm went off she was up and ready to go before me, nipping at Ansel to make him move faster so they could greet the day properly. She even did a few playful moves outside, before she was cognizant of the frigid moving air, and made a beeline for the door. And when it came time for the morning departure, they were both in their beds, waiting for the door to close and start their boring day in isolation.
I've often wondered what they do all day, while they wait to be released. Do they gossip? Does Ansel taunt and tease Everett, or vice versa? Do they make up games, the doggy equivalent of "I Spy...the Mailman"? Do they snore and drool and dream just like they do all night, twitching and yipping at those imaginary rabbits? When she was younger, Everett used to chew her nails--all of them. She chewed them so often, and diligently, that she went years without needing a pedicure. She may chew on them haphazardly now, but not enough to keep them uniformly trim...does she think about that at all, while she snoozes? "I might get my nails cut today--boy do I hate that nail trimmer. I hide every time I see it coming--even when it's not for me."
It was warm enough for some stick tonight--of course I am still User Challenged when it comes to pics in the dark but this one is not as bad as the rest. It gives you an idea of how Eve likes her sticks--the bigger the better. One time when she was still a puppy, probably some time in 1995, Eric came home from walking both dogs (Kechel, whom I have not yet introduced, and Everett), and swore she tried to pull a sapling out of the ground. I didn't see it but I completely believe it. When we lived near the water the best way to tire her out was to find the biggest stick possible (logs, some would call them), and heave it into the water. She'd swim out and bring it back every time. Her fascination with large branches was actually very helpful--she left a lot available for you to grab on to as she raced past you from the water's edge. Upon reflection that was very nice of her...and probably why, in later years, I thought to buy her soccer balls (kid size, #5, slightly deflated so she could get a tooth hold in the seams) when we moved away from the water. I could grab onto the long sticks as she sailed by, just like I could hit the large leather shape hanging out of her mouth. Tennis or raquet balls were out of the question--you could throw it once and sure she'd go get it, but she'd never bring it back to you. With the large sticks and the soccer balls, at least I had a fighting chance. And do you know, there were two dogs, so I bought two balls...and not once did Ansel ever get to play with 'his.' Everett commanded both--in fact the new game evolved into throwing one ball east...waiting for her to make the catch and pick it up, then garner her attention and throw the second ball west. She'd race after #2, and drop #1 in the process, far enough away from me that I had to hussle to go get it before she retrieved ball #2 and then raced back to steal ball #1 from me. Have you ever seen a dog stand guard over two soccer balls at once? She was pretty good at it. Such a silly dog.
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