Consistency in Dog Training . . . Not

Let's just say my goggeh is really fond of frozen veg . . .

Stoopy Piggeh Goggeh!!

I had a nice, big, full, developing head of broccoli in my garden.

Until this evening, when this is what Llewellyn did while a friend and I chatted nesciently on the back porch:

Grrrrr, ggrrrrrrr! Naughty dog! Naughty! Naughty! Nawty!!!

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Greedy Beastliness, Omnivorous Division

I love my dog Llewellyn. Yes, I love him very, very MUCH.

But I kinda sorta like my garden, too. And I really would like it if my dog would approach it with an attitude of live and let grow . . .

And it would be nice if I could let him out by himself in the back yard without having to watch him every minute.

But I can't. I really can't.

The end of May, I planted broccoli and Brussels sprouts in one of my garden plots. They were a little leggy at first, but they took root and prospered. About ten days later, I noticed a leaf or two off one of the Brussels sprout plants. Bird? Maybe. Rabbit? Doubt it; my fence keeps them out. Squirrel? Do squirrels eat plants? I didn't know.

But the next day, I was out back and from a distance noticed Llewellyn slinking along the garden path with something green in his mouth. I thought it was a piece of lettuce, and there's plenty of that to go around. But then I looked more closely, and ack! he was in the crucifer bed, experimentally ripping the leaves off both broccoli and sprouts!

Idiot dog. Apparently the leaves smelled like food, so he'd rip off one, chomp down on it, find it bitter, and spit it out on the path. Maybe the next one would taste good! Rip it off, chomp down on it-- no, that one's bitter, too! Try again!

Until this is what I had:

Damn.

Week or so later, I put in some more Brussel sprouts plants to replace the crucifers Llewellyn killed. Then I let down my guard. The plants were getting to a size where, I told myself, the leaves would smell as well as taste bad, and my dog would leave them alone.

And the plants grew. By late this afternoon, I had heads on two of the three remaining broccoli plants, about the size of a grade-school child's hand. Coming along, coming along . . .

Early this evening, after turning my back on my dog for a couple minutes, I had this:

Bloody 'ell!!

Oh, it could be worse. He could be the sort of dog that eats slippers, suede brushes, and windowsills. I mean, broccoli is good for him. But his stealing vegetables out of the garden is not good for me feeling very happy with him.

Greedy beast! (As he lies sleeping beside my chair, looking ever so innocent . . . )

Llewellyn Has Missed His Calling?

Late this morning, I was out back with Llewellyn. Well, I was on the back porch and he was bounding around the yard, nosing here, sniffing there. Suddenly something on the ground took his fancy. Oh, hey, guess he was eating spent rose of Sharon blooms again.

But as he picked up whatever it was and ran off, I noticed it was too big to be one of those. Whatever this was was large enough to dangle from his jaws.

"Llewellyn, come!" And he came, bringing his new toy-- a recently-dead chipmunk.

Which I immediately told him to drop.

And he did.

He wanted to come back and get it, but I told him No, get in the house.

And he did.

Which is what I call good retriever dog behavior. But since I don't plan to take up small game hunting any time soon, it looks like his efforts are wasted.

Glad I got him to drop it, though. I don't think he'd killed it; there was no blood. The poor chipmunk was probably diseased: not what I call a good snack for a dog's elevenses. A few years back my late dog Maddie once ate a dead bird or something in my sister's back yard, and I had to take her to the emergency vet's from the ensuing infection.

(She had to get sick on Memorial Day, of course.)

We dodged that bullet today, and Llewellyn got lots of doggie treats for being so obedient. Good dog! Very good dog!

Teaching a Young Dog New Tricks

The grass in the near end of my backyard is a mess.

Correction: The bare dirt in the near end of my backyard is a mess. Thanks to my doggie Llewellyn and his little gifts and deposits over the past year and a half, it might be, oh, maybe one-quarter covered with grass?

And not happy grass, either.

This I need to do something about before the warm fall weather goes away.

Never mind why I didn't rake out the dead matter until yesterday. I had my reasons. But now it's done. Hopefully, I'll get the area reseeded by Saturday. Can I let my poor dear dog range free out there and do his business as usual?

No, I can not.

So since last night, Llewellyn's doing his business on the leash, out the back gate, in the grass next to the alley. Back there, I don't care if the vegetation gets killed. Good riddance to it.

The surprising thing is that he's not pulling on the leash half as much as he does when I try to take him for a walk out front. And this is in spite of the fact that he chewed through his Halti collar when he freaked out at the vet's in July!

In fact, the one needing the discipline is most likely to be me. I start an early class tomorrow, and it'd be soooooo much easier on cold crisp dark mornings to just let him run out the back door . . . ! Especially if I'm running late.

Llewellyn, he's enjoying himself so much, he's forgetting to be a prat on the leash. Maybe it's the novelty factor. Long may it last.

Meanwhile, Rhadwen

Today was Wennie's first time out in the yard since last Fall. It's not that it's been cold here lately, just that I've had one lately.

(Well, bronchial infection, actually.)

She chased the dog, let the dog chase her, sat on the cobblestone garden path in the sun while that suited her, retreated into the shade of a hosta when it no longer did, and generally had a good time. And of course when I wasn't looking she reprised her classic bit of leaping onto the top of the compost bin, up to the top of the board fence, over to the dining room window sill, and thence to the ground and freedom! freeeeeedommmmm!

Which in this case meant under the next door neighbors' spirea bush. Llewellyn had something to say about it when I brought her back into the house, but as I reminded him, it's really none of his business.

I did let her back out, though, and she took her leisure on the back porch, reminding everyone who the real queen of this household is.