A few weekends ago, I suggested that we have a slumber party in the living room. Nugget always sleeps in a crate, so I thought it would be fun to start a tradition of having slumber parties twice a year (on the LDS General Conference weekends) so that he could sleep near us. Gary agreed, so we pulled out the air mattresses and dressed them with sheets and blankets. I folded a blanket up for Nugget next to my side and then went to change into my pajamas. When I got back, he was curled up on his blanket, all ready for his first slumber party.
Nugget is a very family-oriented dog. He loves doing everything with us and even tries to sneak his dinner into the living room if that's where we are. A few weekends ago, I suggested that we have a slumber party in the living room. Nugget always sleeps in a crate, so I thought it would be fun to start a tradition of having slumber parties twice a year (on the LDS General Conference weekends) so that he could sleep near us. Gary agreed, so we pulled out the air mattresses and dressed them with sheets and blankets. I folded a blanket up for Nugget next to my side and then went to change into my pajamas. When I got back, he was curled up on his blanket, all ready for his first slumber party. Gary and I settled onto the air mattresses, and then for several hours, I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable enough to fall into a decent slumber. It was not to be. In the middle of the night, I finally gave up and turned to Gary, whispering to him that I was going to bed. Apparently, he wasn't sleeping well either because he was awake enough to reply, "Me too." As I turned to crawl off the air mattress, I couldn't help feeling bad about bailing on the little pup...until I realized that he wasn't on his blanket anymore. I went into his bedroom and what do you know. He had given up on the slumber party long before we did and was already sleeping soundly in his crate. Jerk.
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I refer to my training sessions with Nugget as "tricks for treats". I use soft liver treats that a PetsMart employee once referred to as "crack cocaine for dogs". Needless to say, he goes nuts for them. I usually preface our training sessions by asking Nugget, "Do you what to plaaaaay....tricks for treats?!?!" and then he jumps around doing spin moves.
The other day, we were all having a quiet evening in the living room. Gary was doing homework, I was reading on the couch, and Nugget was lounging on the floor. I decided to pull a prank on Gary, so when Nugget looked my way, I mouthed silently, "Do you want to plaaaaay...tricks for treats?" Sure enough, Nugget started flipping out. Gary looked up, startled, and exclaimed, "Whoa! What's wrong with him?!" Nothing, Gary. He's a well-trained (er...addicted) dog. We went on a short backpacking adventure last weekend to Mirror Lake. We had the trail and lake entirely to ourselves that night with the exception of the swarms of mosquitoes that had dibbs on all the campsites near the lake. We backtracked and made our own campsite in the middle of a rhododendron wilderness. I made a small fire using green wood and we smoked out the few mosquitoes that we still had humming around our heads. Nugget had a ball exploring until bedtime, when we all stuffed ourselves in the little tent and fell asleep to the pitter patter of rain on our tent roof.
When we got home, Gary and I made a deal: I would teach his Gospel Principles lesson on Sunday if he would clean the house. This is a picture of Gary cleaning up the camping stuff: When Gary and I were reading up about Australian Shepherds before committing to one, we found a lot stuff on the Internet that said, "Aussies are very smart dogs. Sometimes too smart." "What's too smart?" we'd ask one another. "Like, they correct your grammar during an argument?" We didn't know. So we threw caution to the wind and got ourselves a too-smart dog. It was great at first. He was instantly crate-trained and quickly followed it up with sit, stay, down, roll over, crawl, jump, and do-a-spin-move. We even coaxed him into fetching inanimate objects, like tennis and soccer balls (more on that later). But our proudest achievement was the establishment of "the line". Basically, we have an invisible boundary in our house, right down the middle of our hallway, which Nugget is not allowed to pass. He's allowed to hang out in the living room, kitchen, and, of course, his own bedroom, but he's not allowed down the hall to the bathrooms or other bedrooms. We initially created the barrier with boxes and then started removing them one by one, correcting Nugget if he ever tried to cross "the line". We slowly downsized to just a piece of string lying across the carpet and then one day...all the training wheels were off. The line was officially invisible. And much to our pride and joy, Nugget stayed on his side of the line. Until. Until his too-smart kicked in. First, it started with the visitors. When my little sister Jill came up to visit, Nugget fell in love with her. And Jill, with all due respect, is a bit of a push-over when it comes to puppy dogs. Nugget quickly made a mental note of it. One evening, while I was distracted, Nugget snuck over his line to kiss Jill goodnight IN AN OFF-LIMITS ROOM. And she didn't kick him out! She petted him. Even after she left, the seed had already been planted. Inch by inch, Nugget would slowly start extending his line further and further down the hallway. Nugget now has a "reminder pillow". But as you can see, he still toes the line. (And gripes about it.) In addition to his testing of boundaries, Nugget also flat-out ignores the line when he knows he can get away with it. I'll be sitting in the bathroom and suddenly hear Nugget sniffing under the door. "Hey!" I shout. I quickly wash my hands and fling open the door. But by then, of course, Nugget is lounging lazily in the living room. When I ask him what kind of cheeky move he's trying to pull, he'll give me half a disinterested glance before returning his attention to his television program. This happens frequently. I've never caught him in the act.
But Gary did once. It was a Saturday and Gary had been outside all morning. Nugget must have assumed he was at work. I was taking a shower in our master bathroom when Gary decided to come inside to get some socks. When he came into our room, he saw Nugget curled up next the bathroom door. Before Gary even said anything, Nugget's eyes got big and he slinked outta there real fast. Busted! The other thing that Nugget can be "too smart" about is what he will or will not chase. Teaching Nugget how to fetch was a pain because he only likes chasing things with a working heartbeat. We finally came to an agreement that he will bring the balls and frisbees back in exchange for a treat. Gary rarely gives Nuggets treats, so when Gary throws a ball and give the command to "go get it!", Nugget still brings it to me. Because guys, this is serious work. It deserves payment. I used to be pretty bummed about Nugget's insistance on only chasing living things, but today at the dog park, I realized that it can sometimes come in handy. I don't have to bring a ball with me to the dog park, nor do I have to throw it repeatedly and worry about other dogs stealing it. Instead, we chase dragonflies. This morning, there was a particular abundance of dragonflies. I just pointed to one and said, "There's one, Nugget! There's one!" And off he went, sprinting and darting around like a champion herding dog. I then got to walk back over to a picnic table and just watch as he exercised himself. I also got to overhear a woman ask someone else what in the world was that little dog chasing. "The ghosts, of course," I wanted to tell her. I just realized that I've spent half the day with only one of my socks on.
On Friday, Gary and I went to our favorite crawdad spot. There's a big pipe running out into the river with large stones on either side, which provides a perfect hideout for little crawdads and easy access for us. We tie hot dogs onto a string, attach the string to a stick, and lower our bait into the water. Once crawdads start chomping on the hot dogs, we slowly pull them up and snag them with a net. We didn't catch very many this time because I, um, slipped off the pipe and fell into the river.
Just outside our neighborhood is a field in between a church and an elementary school. The lawn is well kept, but it's rarely used, so Nugget and I take frequent field trips there. I let Nugget off his leash at one corner and he sprints to the other corner looking for birds. Occasionally, there will be a crow or two for him to chase off. Above everything else in the world, Nugget loves chasing birds. The only thing that can sometimes break him off a bird chase is a stern voice and the promise of a hot dog. So imagine his excitement when we went to the field today and there were three (three!) crows and a handful of small birds all sitting around gossiping.
I took off his leash, watched him sit there twitching for a moment (because it's hilarious), and finally gave him the verbal "okay!" to which he exploded like a cannon. He raced as fast as his little pencil legs could carry him in the hopes of finally catching his very own crow. But alas, it was not to be. The good news, however, is that he succeeded in once again ridding his beloved field of the scourge that is birds. After Nugget chased the birds off, he started frolicking around the field, inspecting the areas where the birds had been to check for any loose change that might have fallen out of their pockets during the hasty escape. And that's when I noticed the swallow. It was a very cute black swallow and, as swallows are wont to do, he was flying low to the ground. Unlike the other birds, he had decided not to flee the scene. But here's the best part: he was following Nugget around. No matter where Nugget went or in what direction he turned, the swallow stayed close behind. I was surprised because the swallow's flight was cool and easy, not at all like he was agitated and trying to attack Nugget. I kept trying to show Nugget the swallow, but it was tough because the bird was so good at keeping to Nugget's rear end. When Nugget finally saw it, though, he kicked into high gear again and sprinted his little heart out trying to get to it. He was especially excited because the swallow was flying at exactly his height off the ground. So there they went, little Nugget and the little swallow, chasing each other around the park. At several points, they would get stuck in a circle, going round and round and round trying to catch one another. Nugget has the heart of a champion but only the lungs of a very small dog, so after several minutes of running/flying together, Nugget collapsed to the ground and seriously contemplated throwing up. The little swallow friend must have felt for him because once he realized that Nugget just couldn't keep up anymore, he excercised good sportsmandship and politely left the park altogether. Nugget had to rest for a good long time before he was ready to make the trek back home. When we got home, Nugget got a nice big drink of water. And then he asked if we could go play with the swallow again tomorrow. A few nights ago, Nugget was sniffing intently around a post in our backyard. Gary went out to inspect the situation after we saw the ground moving. Gary came in and said, "There's a critter out there that has a long mouse face with a little tiny pig snout." "A mole!" I shouted gleefully. We googled mole pictures just to verify. And sure enough, this is what Gary saw: (Yeesh, someone needs to trim their fingernails.) By the next morning, our little mole frienemy (I say friend, Gary says enemy) had already started edging / aerating our lawn. (His path is now five times as long as this, running along the edge of our patio and backyard.)
Nugget was put in charge of getting rid of the mole, but since he's not allowed to dig, it's been a real challenge for him. He's been really stressed out about it because, you know, his allowance is riding on it. Today, Gary and I went to a farm on Sauvie Island to collect some scrumptious strawberries. We came home with a whole slew of them, along with some raspberries, cherries, and real maple syrup. And plus we made some jam.
Spring has finally found its way to Oregon. And with spring comes one of our home’s annual traditions. It’s not a family tradition, mind you, it’s a home tradition. Our house established it before we were in the picture. In fact, it was our house’s welcome gift to Gary and me when we first moved in. And now we have to celebrate it every spring. Ants in the mailbox! This year, it was the nursery wing of the ant colony, so it made me feel a little heartless when I put an ant poison thing into the mailbox. But you know, Henrie family policy. I also put the poison sticks at the base of the mailbox, where the ants were coming from. But here’s the rub. The poison is the kind they take back to the colony to share with all their friends and colleagues. And it takes a few weeks to really get the job done. So after another day of having our letters drenched in ants, I realized I needed to use something with more of an immediate effect. I hunted around our garage for Raid or any kind of instant insect killer. I found nothing. What I did find was my bottle of Kaboom. “Hey hey,” I thought. “DEATH BY SMELL!”
I took the bathroom cleaner outside and sprayed a tiny bit in the upper back corner of the mailbox, away from all the ants (just to see if I could get rid of them without killing them), and shut the door. I checked it a few hours later and walah! It worked brilliantly! There were a few dozen dead ants, but the majority of them had apparently escaped the gas chamber. I cleaned the mailbox out with plenty of Kaboom, and—here’s the best part—they didn’t come back for weeks. I like to think that when the ants were fleeing for their lives, they left don’t-come-back-here pheromone trails. Now I just spray Kaboom around our mailbox every week and the ants stay in the dirt below. Everyone’s happy. |
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