We had just gotten to the point where we thought treats weren't necessary any more. He was walking, albeit slowly and with deliberation, up to the car door entrance and then slowly putting one leg in and then they other before cautiously lifting his body into the car and turning to give us a look of utter sadness.
"Oh why. Why do we have to ride in these obnoxious conveyances? They are so abysmally depressing and just add to my general feeling of despair."
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| Coach, turning his head toward me with a look of utter sadness. |
However, since he was getting into the car in one smooth, but slow journey, we were happy.
Until yesterday afternoon that is. Yesterday afternoon for some reason Coach decided that smooth and slow progress was not going to be achieved. In fact a full on work stoppage was in order. He put on the brakes about 5 feet out. I managed to open the doors and get my bags in the car. Then the cheerleading began.
The cheers fell on deaf ears. As they said about Casey at the Bat, "There was no joy in Mudville." And Coach was definitely from Mudville last night. His feet were planted firmly and with a wide stance. He had a bit of a mulish look.
I did get him to come forward after a few minutes, but we reached a standstill again. I was running on empty. My enthusiasm for cheering was waning and I think Coach could tell I didn't really mean it. I looked at the bottom of the car floor and there were several large dog cookie crumbs. Coach had moved up a couple of steps.
I took up the slack in the leash and held the crumb out to him.
"Cookie?" Is this really a cookie if it is a crumb? He looked at me. I think he knew I was on shaky ground. He looked again at the cookie crumb. He didn't care. It was the principle of the thing. He had a point to make.
"Oh Coach." I patted his head. "Come on, good boy." I put the crumb on the door jamb and waited.
Coach waited and then, slowly, like a large black snail, he moved forward ponderously. As if all his bones were encased in cement. He ignored the crumb and got in the car.
Well, really, who wants a crumb anyway? I am just happy we reached an accord. Friday, we will see where we stand once more.
The cheers fell on deaf ears. As they said about Casey at the Bat, "There was no joy in Mudville." And Coach was definitely from Mudville last night. His feet were planted firmly and with a wide stance. He had a bit of a mulish look.
I did get him to come forward after a few minutes, but we reached a standstill again. I was running on empty. My enthusiasm for cheering was waning and I think Coach could tell I didn't really mean it. I looked at the bottom of the car floor and there were several large dog cookie crumbs. Coach had moved up a couple of steps.
I took up the slack in the leash and held the crumb out to him.
"Cookie?" Is this really a cookie if it is a crumb? He looked at me. I think he knew I was on shaky ground. He looked again at the cookie crumb. He didn't care. It was the principle of the thing. He had a point to make.
"Oh Coach." I patted his head. "Come on, good boy." I put the crumb on the door jamb and waited.
Coach waited and then, slowly, like a large black snail, he moved forward ponderously. As if all his bones were encased in cement. He ignored the crumb and got in the car.
Well, really, who wants a crumb anyway? I am just happy we reached an accord. Friday, we will see where we stand once more.
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