Today, I have a guest blogger. My dog Ginger, who taught me everything I know about blogging.
Hello, all. I’m Ginger. First of all I am going to brag a little. I have just become a Canine Good Citizen (CGC)! At the age of 10 months, I have passed the CGC test administered by the American Kennel Club. I have proven that I can walk among my fellow humans without being distracted by such non-sense as people having ill behaved dogs, attempting to open umbrellas in my path, people making lots of noise, and other distractions known to the civilized world. I will sit and stay and not get up until I am called, I will stay still while my coat is combed by a stranger or my teeth or paws are examined. There were other tests of that nature, but I easily passed them.
Now, a bit about Moi. My father was a Sheltie, and my mother was a Sheltie. Me? Well, I’m a Presbyterian. I don’t feel that I should necessarily follow in the footsteps of my parents. After all, their ancestors were wolves. Why Presbyterian? Well, it seems very American and I’m very American. My patron saint is, of course, St. Bernard. The truth is, I’m not too sure what a Presbyterian is or does, or even if they have patron saints, but it has to be more exciting than being a Sheltie. I am very proud when my master answers the question, “What kind of dog is that?” with, “That my good man is a Presbyterian”.
At 10-months, I’m a young lady now – my detractors would call me a bitch – and, as such, I keep the house organized, and keep the humans in line. Believe me, that is a full time job! It takes a 100% pure bitch to do that day after day.
I’ve trained Ron to get up earlier than me and prepare my breakfast I then go outside where my job is to make sure that the lawn is properly fed. Then, I go upstairs and jump in the bed and bond with Glenda for a while. I love her! She is a girl; she understands me. Unfortunately, she is not a bitch. I give her a shower in the morning by licking any exposed flesh while she is trying to sleep. In my mind, I am saving her time – but she doesn’t always look at it that way.
OK, after Glenda gets up, I guide her downstairs. I do this by scampering around her legs while she is trying to negotiate the steps. I’m a Sheltie, I lead people, that is what I am bred to do!
To keep Glenda in good shape, I try not to let her linger over breakfast. While she is trying to eat, I get my little frisbee, or tennis ball, and drop it at her feet. If she does not take the hint, I stick my cold snout into her leg. Eventually, she’ll take the ball or frisbee and throw it. I try to be accommodating and do bring it back.
The things I do to keep the house in order are too numerous to mention, so I’ll just go into a couple more. The letter carrier in our area drives a small truck. When he/she arrives at our mailbox – about 50 feet from our front door – I am able to distinguish the sound of the truck and make sure that Ron or Glenda know about it. I do this by barking, and attempting to lead them to the mailbox – in case they have forgotten where it is. They ARE getting up in years, you know. In fact, in dog-years (which is all that really counts), Ron is about 500! Pretty spry for a guy that old!
Then, when they go out to get the mail, I continually run in circles around them, and make sure that they get to the proper location. I can honestly bark that every time I have led them to the mailbox, they have successfully gotten the mail and successfully gotten back to the house.
I’m a great watch dog. It is not terribly clear to me what I am supposed to be watching for, but I do bark at significant events. Events such as a leaf falling off a tree, or a squirrel venturing too close to the house, or the grass getting too long.
In the evenings, if Ron has been a good human all day, I let him take me for a 5-mile walk around our community. He seems to enjoy it and has lost 15 pounds since we started doing this. While on the walk, I discuss blogging with him. I feel that I must modestly point out that most of what Ron knows about blogging, he learned from me.
Right now, I am on the lookout for a bumper sticker that says, “My 10-month old Sheltie is smarter than your high-school honors student”.