Yesterday I was over at the parentals chewing the fat whilst getting fat eating a kilo of carrot cake. The good Lord has cursed me with an unnaturally good ability to bake. I wish instead he had given me an unnaturally good ability to run marathons is all.
My fave topic at the moment (aside from cake and how fat I’m getting) is my Koda. In case you have missed my Instagram feed or various facebook postings and he might have a board in production on Pinterest, Koda is my golden retriever pup and he gets more and more handsome with each passing day. As his mother, I am totes convinced that in addition to being handsome he is totally perfect and will excel in any and all situations.
At the first theory lesson for puppy school last week, involving only parents, not puppies, other classmates bemoaned various behaviours like toilet training and being left alone. The Artist and I sat smug. Our genius puppy – toilet trained and does not melt down when alone for a couple of hours. I gloated at length on the ride home that we were categorically going to have the star pupil of the puppy school. Because he is handsome and clever.
Taking him down to the park a few days ago we met up with a man and his puppy – a brindle Scottie girl and my Koda was the perfect gentleman. So much so that the pup didn’t want to leave us even after the owner started walking off. My parents wanted to know her name and I told her that I had heard him call her Fatso. The incongruency of it all occured to me – why would you spend $4000 on a dog and then call it Fatso. Then it dawned on me that perhaps he wasn’t talking to the dog when he was saying rather exasperatedly “Come on Fatso”. The writer of this blog was, at the time, playing with his puppy and perhaps not encouraging her to re-join her owner. But I’m letting it go because of my elevated self esteem and because my Koda is handsome, clever and well socialised clearly and if he wants to play with a puppy, goddammit, they are going to play.
So Saturday, puppy school, yes. Well, nothing like a cold washcloth in the face to wake you the hell up or an hour of puppy school with your 9kg Golden Retriever who is in a class with two cockaliar spaniels, a pug and a miniature poodle type. It was brought to my attention quickly that when a small dog is over excited, the owner is able to pop them on her lap and create some kind of order. Not so with my boy, who also found his bark yesterday. Shattered dreams people, shattered dreams.
It also became rather clear that I’m going to be that woman getting dragged around Centennial Park on a walk.
My only happiness was the socialising part because as big as my boy is, he’s a gentle soul when he sees a smaller dog.
I awoke this morning to find The Artist and Koda deeply invested in a training session of all the things we tried unsuccessfully to learn yesterday but were able to comprehend today without the distractions.
I am hesitant about going out on a limb here and saying that next time we are going to show them what for because in truth I guess anything can happen (and probably will).
That’s why they say you should never work with animals or children. But man, this dog is the best thing ever.
Love and light.