Monday, September 21, 2020. A beautiful, sunny weekend in New York with temps in the mid- to high-60s and into the low-50s in late evening, as we move overnight into the first day of Autumn. Sunday was the perfect version of the new season.
Walking the dog(s). As there are four little ones, rescued, intended to be Shih Tzus. Only one of them now is the Shih Tzu, and that’s Ray. He’s almost 16. Four years ago he came from a kill shelter in South Carolina via ARF. He must have had a one owner life because he’s perfectly trained and orderly, and is an adorable pup.
The other three — Tobey, Rosemary and Willie — were intended to be Shih Tzus but got mixed up in the pick-up; all half to a third Ray’s age, and not that friendly with the boy. He’s another generation, and we know about that. I think it’s probably because he’s still a new kid on the block.
So when they eat, His Nibs takes his in the bedroom. He’s so smart that when he hears me chopping up what will be his main meal of the day, and he’s been snoozing in the living room, he goes into the bedroom and waits patiently. He also prefers having the door closed while he’s eating. Saves on dealing with the marauders amidst. The other three are in the kitchen with me, waiting impatiently. You could get the impression they don’t get much to eat, although anytime I am in the kitchen they can give that impression. Sometimes I break down and pull out a few treats.
Anyway, I only meant to discuss Sunday, the beautiful almost-Autumn day in New York. And that was about taking the gang out for their walks and seeing the world outside our little canine cave of 24-7 Love. There are two shifts: One for Ray and One for Rosemary and her swain. That’s the longer one.
Ray is very organized in his seniority. Out the door, a sniff along the way to the first post for the lift-a-leg. He pees longer than any dog I’ve ever had. It’s like … he holds it until whenever! Then there are a few sniffs (somebody must know what they are sniffing for). Rosemary rarely sniffs. She also often stops to sit every now and then. A pat on the head usually gets her back up on all fours.
The “walks” are usually as brief as possible: one-two-and-we’re-thru. It’s getting to the one-two that takes time, so they get a longer walk. And on a beautiful day, such as a Sunday, still a day of rest for some of us; it can be a pleasure for old, impatient Dave.