That's Ginger doing her best peanut-head impression. She's pretty good at it actually. The one thing she's better at really is her radar impression. I give you... bat eared dog:
Toldya! And it's not gravity driven either. This dog has an amazing capacity to do all kinds of freaky things with those ears. She's 11 years old this year, and for ten of those years she's been cheering me up with those silly ears. It's hard to imagine it's been that long, but it has.
There. A little TurdiTude does me a lot of good.
I'm still waiting. Waiting and obsessing, obsessing and waiting... it seems like I'm waiting on everyfreakingthing. Of course I always obsess, right? So that's nothing new, really, but I'd love it if someone would just go on and shoot me. I'm waiting for Nick to be able to work again, and I'm obsessing over every single move he makes. He's not short striding, and he's not carrying his leg up. He's always taken funky steps - occasionally hopping a tad on the back, and he's mostly inclined (at home) to do it when he needs to poop. So I see this, and it's normal, so why do I freak out a little inside? Obsessing and waiting. I see him take a funny hop once in a day, and what do I do? Obsess about it. Geez Louise. Can I have a break from myself?
I'm waiting for tomorrow to hear what our next step is. The good news is that when we're doing our jog/lope (or trot/canter) stuff I'm not seeing any funky movements from Nick whatsoever. He's cross-cantering some, but that's typical of him. I've joined the ranks of the weirdos who lunge their dogs in public places, like trials. I had to do it - I'm not fast enough to get him up to a lope (I'm a "Penguin" in runners lingo), so I've taught my dog to lunge at the end of a flexi. I'm probably going to some sort of sheepdog-slut purgatory for that one. Just don't tell anyone, OK? I promise only to use our new skill for this particular thing, and to never, EVER break it out at a sheepdog trial. I'd rather die first, really.
I'm still waiting for this divorce thing to be final, and obsessing over the fact that the man I'm divorcing hasn't done the things he needs to... the things that will truly give me some closure, and allow us to move on separately. I called my lawyer's office this morning, and the final paperwork was filed on Monday, as scheduled. The judge signs it, and then puts it in the lawyer's box to pick up, and THEN... they're going to mail it to me. When I asked her (the receptionist) if she'd just call me when they get it back so I'll know it's final (closure?) she acted like I'd asked her to take a bath in dog doo. Too darn bad (notice the significant lack of a curse word here - I deleted it). I paid them a lot of money to just file a few papers! Is it asking too much for one measly phone call to give me some peace?
However, in the good news department Linc appears to be figuring some things out. We had what basically (in my mind) amounted to a fairly disastrous clinic. However, since then Robin has helped us to work through some things. After last weekend he's settling down a bit, and becoming a thoughtful little dog. He's slowing down some and thinking - and taking his lie down as a working command as opposed to a stop working command. We still have some residual things to get past, but things are looking up for sure. It was truly a pleasure last weekend. He's actually more in-tune with me than I thought he was. He's definitely feeding off of my emotions, and when I get amped up so does he. These youngsters... they change so much from one session to the next.
This weekend looks to be lovely. Maybe the doc will clear Nick to do a little driving. Wouldn't that be lovely?