The stuffed animal of this morning is now a beheaded and unstuffed remnant being traded back and forth until they get tired and lay down a bit. I think it’s so darling how Ranger treats her, never letting her get the upper hand but taunting her with their pull toy, swinging it out of her grasp and tossing it in the air. They play their dominance games all day, finally tiring and settling for something of a stalemate with Ranger maintaining his lead position. We enforce this through strict feeding manners, and treats – Ranger is first.
Kota must kennel in the day to get any rest – she’s like a restless two year old, unable to let go. A few hours later, Ranger starts sitting in front of me with that, “Now, Mom?” look. “Okay – find Kota.” Off he trots to the guest room, opening the door with his big head. They prance and Ranger gives her all sorts of low aurrrggg growls of greeting.
I told Trooper to hold off on the call to the working dog section. She is a handful but I think nearly housebroken. (Well, she is training me to read her signs – that frantic pacing being a sure clue. Ranger spoiled us with his bell ringing smarts…) And at least one cat is not all that afraid of him, now – leave it to pudgy Jonesy to be the one unafraid. Poor Maximus is left to only hisses of disdain as his declawed front paws merely give velvety punches to the rude snout.
All in all, not a bad fit. And the fact is that the daily walks aren’t hurting me, either. Kota has taken to the leash quite well to my surprise. She ignores all but the most barky dogs when told. And is very nearly trained now to do her business on command. Damned if she didn’t choose a different one from Ranger, just to be trouble, I reckon. Amusingly, in the first few days, Ranger seemed to know that she didn’t “get it” and would show her what we meant by “take a break”. Now, she is able to get the point very clearly.
Oh, how her fur has changed…it is a veritable pelt, now. Nothing like that dry crackly straw she came here with, it is downy and deep with that slick outer coat. I shall have to get a photo of those paws, too. Gigantic, they are getting those cute tufts back – and the rest of her is getting that feathery coat that only comes with good food. Yes, she is mine, I am afraid. Damnably attached to me in a way that is almost more intense than Ranger’s manner. In time, I hope, her youthful exuberance will fade a bit and she will be “push button” like Ranger…more calm…after all, I’d forgotten those difficult days of his youth when I used to post about how he was making me crazy.
At least she hasn’t as long to age – just another year or so and things should settle a bit. Meanwhile, she is good to me, always at my feet. A fierce female warrior, ready to take on whatever comes.