Today is my father’s 50th birthday and to celebrate he’s taken a trip to Amsterdam. Which means that I’m left dog-sitting for Dolly. This is actually the second time I’ve watched her since retiring her, but this time is a bit more complicated given that I now have Yara. And while both dogs have gotten on reasonably well, there are still a few logistics that I was a bit wary of. The least of which being how I would walk two rather large dogs.
Yesterday was a test in my own patience and sanity. Both dogs were pretty wild at first — feeding off one another’s excitement and stress. And once they calmed down, they didn’t really seem too happy about the living arrangements. For the most part they’re getting along fine enough. Yara took possession of the loan toy that Dolly had with her, carrying it around wherever she went. Dolly took this in stride and soon worked up the courage to really explore the apartment and easily found a toy of Yara’s to take for herself. She played with it for a good ten minutes before deciding that chewing it to bits while Yara looked on would be way more fun. Not soon after that she found Yara’s stockpile of bones and busied herself with sneakily trying to take each of them. She made a big pile on Yara’s bed and then tried to chew ALL of them at once! Yara seemed to think this was unacceptable, but just looked on helplessly. So, I took a bone each and filled them with treats and gave each girl one . . . two hours later I took the following photo.
The only real fiasco we’ve had has been trying to get walks in. Neither dog wants to be left in the apartment while the other goes out and Yara especially is not doing well with this. She got so worked up the first time I clipped a leash on Dolly that she had an accident right there on the spot, which freaked her out even more I think.1 And when I finally did take her out, she stood around like she didn’t quite understand the concept of relieving herself. Not to mention, the elevator was broken for most of yesterday — I truly thought Dolly was going to die of a heart attack from having to walk up and down the four flights of stairs. When we’d come back inside and were walking back up, she quite insistently wanted to go through the second floor door. I’m not sure if that was merely because the doors all look the same or she really didn’t want to walk up the rest of the stairs. Either way she was breathing quite heavy when we got back to my apartment! Age is certainly a factor, but she’s more than a little out of shape.
Oh, well. Hopefully the weather clears up and I can take them both to the park or something.