Dasa has decided it’s not a good idea to go for walks when it’s chilly or damp, especially at night. The four of us head down the street, Ivan forging ahead, busily peeing on mail boxes and grabbing mouthfuls of grass out of people’s yards. Dasa will trot along for a couple of houses, sometimes more, but then she stops. Digs in her tiny heels and refuses to move. I encourage her to follow Ivan at which point she tries to turn back home. I’ve discovered that slipping her a treat has an amazingly restorative effect, and she trots happily along for a short distance until she again stops and looks at me. If I offer another treat, she goes a little farther, although each treat provides the necessary impetus for only a short distance and then another is required.
Rather than continue to provide bribes, I usually pick her and continue on the walk. She seems quite content to perch in my arms, her little pup light shining from around her neck. When we get to the end of our usual night time route, I put her down and she trots home, tail waving jauntily over her back.
Eric says she only does this with me, so I asked him to walk her one night. Ivan and I were striding along when I looked over my shoulder to see her little pup light shining several feet off the ground. As Eric approached, Dasa happily perched in his arms, he said, “You’ve created a monster.” This is not true. Dasa is a very smart little girl; she knows we would not drag her by her tiny neck, and if she can get treats out of the deal, even better. I think this simply shows initiative and intelligence. Now that it’s gotten colder, I tuck a baby blanket into my coat pocket so I can wrap it around her before I pick her up. My clever little girl needs to stay nice and toasty.