Poor Stevie. Doesn’t it seem like every post lately starts with those words? The girl is such a trooper, but she is really hating her e-collar and her restricted exercise routine. I posted a little while back about her great indoor-outdoor personality, but that personality has been slightly challenged by the killer combo of her youth and the doctor’s orders.
It’s not much longer, that Stevie is in spayed dog detention and not allowed to go on runs or chase sticks; we just need to pull through for another week or so. And so, we’re trying to make lemonade out of lemons.
And so, we find ourselves in situations like these: One of us walks into her room to let her out of her crate, and she starts practically bouncing with joy. Her tail is wagging her whole body, and she is so excited that she is letting out little squeaks and whimpers of joy. Her crate is trembling with anticipation. We open the crate — after she sits, of course — and then the true joyful fury is unleashed. Stevie starts bucking like a little bronco, spinning like a top, jumping like a jackrabbit, and panting like . . . panting like . . . like an overexcited dog who has just been let out of her crate.
At this point I should confess: I’m not much of a dog trainer. We do teach basic manners and occasionally a trick, but we will probably never have dogs who can do a whole host of tricks to wow a crowd. Our specialty? Teaching a dog to just be. And yet, Stevie’s condition gave us a gift that we couldn’t resist exploiting. What does the girl do when she’s too excited to contain herself? She turns right. Never left. And so, naturally, we started trying to teach her to put it on cue.
Let’s just say that with all the pent-up energy from no exercise for two weeks, it’s A LOT more of a right-turning-tornado-meets-rodeo than a trick, but still. Pretty cute. If only we could bottle that enthusiasm . . .