An attempt to return to something resembling "normal"

 

On Tuesday, I had my first session with the personal trainer (for me, not for Ember) since late May.  

Tuesday morning, I wore a different pair of shoes.  The soles had started to come away from the uppers on the pair I had most recently used as my "regular" dog-walking shoes, so I put on a different pair.

Well!  Ember decided that she needed to treat these new shoes the way she has every "change".  Nibble, untie, etc.  I distracted her, pointing out that Mommy needs her feet to move.

Treats.  Sigh.  

Anyway, the little puppy who isn't so little any more got a bit mouthy.  I extracted my right wrist from her mouth, reminding her that this is my treat hand, and if she wants to be fed, Mommy needs her hands, too!

Of course she was hungry.  But she wasn't showing much interest in her normal food.  We had at least an hour before it would be socially acceptable to take her walking in the neighborhood, and of course the backyard is still off limits for 10 more days.  I explained that to the puppy, also, that we had to wait for the sun.  She decided at this point that kibble wasn't as bad as all that.

I'm still working on the "mommy doesn't play that kind of game" theory, and I may be imagining it but Tuesday morning it seemed to give me a glimmer of hope that progress is being made.  Yes, she made mommy bleed again, but she calmed and sat to get my attention (and a treat).

Finally, the sun caught up with us, and at 5:50 a.m. we were out in the lovely dawn (photo at top) and got a slow start while she chewed on the last remaining fragment of that blasted McDonald's plastic cup and a half block later while she watched with fascination an ant colony on the sidewalk and into the grass.

When we got home, she was a little hungrier for her kibble and we got enough in her that Mommy's not worried she's going to starve.  

So, lather, rinse, repeat.  Each day has its own challenges.  

Wednesday morning, she came out of the crate as "teething puppy".  She started tearing up the protective mat I used to put my bicycle trainer on.  She found the door to my bedroom not latched, and pushed it open.  I was alert enough to notice at the moment, and went up to catch her in the closet, pulling a package of TP out.  All rolls saved, thanks to the "highest value" recall treat in my pouch:  freeze-dried chicken hearts, chopped up in advance.

Before our second walk, she got her paws up on the buffet and shredded something (not quite sure what it was, card from the mail that I saved for some reason?)  She got a tea candle after our second walk, and chewed it to oblivion.  I mean, this is what she does.

BUT it was Wednesday, and the beauty of Wednesday is Puppy Class at 11 a.m.  She did well, in fact, and I let her stay for part of puppy play time.  I pulled her out just in time:  she pooped next to the car, in the parking lot!  Home, she's in a puddle of puppy in the kitchen, resting.

Looking forward to Alicia's visit this afternoon, as that will further enrich Ember's life, and hopefully that leads to a better behaved puppy through the evening hours!

Thursday is another trainer day for me.  The attempt to establish "normal" again goes on!  Saturday my son has proposed a meet-up at a local dog run.  Give us extra hands for Ember's recall, and a mentor dog in Carl, because she'll follow him when my son calls Carl back.  Anyway, that's plan A.

Life is good.  Spark on.