This morning Klea managed to eat something while we were on our morning walk.
Yes, this is blog worthy. Because over the last 4 weeks, we've been having a major power struggle. She's getting more attention than she knows what to do with. Everyone loves "that kind of dog". Even I knew that I loved Corgis before I knew the name of the breed. One neighbor expressed breed envy with his Dachshund in tow.
The Old Marine looks for us everyday at quarter to six. Where he'll mosie from his porch with treats in his hand ready to tell another tale about the Corgi his father used to have. Klea and I stand and listen to another one of his stories before we all part ways. I think she likes this time the most.
Yesterday during our afternoon walk, she sniffed and sniffed and sniffed the same spot until finally! She sat down. I was flabbergasted! A passerby thought that was just the cutest thing ever and asked if he coud pet her. "Of course!", I say, "She's a good dog". He rubs her back and belly. She looks at me like she just stashed 50 million in jewels. He points out where he lives and lets me know that if we ever stop by he's got treats for her. She knows that she's won.
I've been trying to cut back on her treats and food. She's getting 1/4 cup less than normal because, quite frankly, she's 10 pounds overweight. And her legs are so little that I'm sure it's not going to be good for the longevity of her joints. Besides, she's a herding dog that's not herding. And if I can't get her the activity she needs to stay fit then I've got to regulate her caloric intake. It's the good mom thing to do.
Only she's resisting all of my efforts to get in shape. She likes to sit during our walks. And she won't fetch unless I run for the stick as well. Her GMa had been putting chicken stock on her food but I put the kibosh on that, so K-Dubs decided that she would eat... and then throw it up an hour later.
And since I won't give her 3 treats a day, she now tries to eat
absolutely anything she finds on our walks, up to and including, a dead goldfish, another dog's poop, a popsicle wrapper, a squirrel, a dead bird, unidentifiable roadkill, Burger King trash, lunch box remnants, ants, spiders, the contents of any abandoned cup, and a chihuahua. Yes, a chihuahua. The poor guy got loose and wasn't trying to go home. Klea was gonna send him to Jesus.
I've stayed vigilant. Carefully inspecting anything she puts her nose against. Always on the lookout for "the sideways glance and nibble" - the move that let's me know that she is definitely up to something. But this morning she got me. She managed to pick "it" up without skipping a beat. I'm convinced that her nose never hit the ground because one minute she was beside me and the next she was two steps ahead happily munching away.
Gotta love a good win.
