Mom unloaded her backpack and I forgave her her earlier inability to pick an appropriate pile of heaven into which to perfume ourselves. She took out a bottle of cold water, my travel bowl, and some snacks, just for me. I sipped and crunched and had a great time. I was pleased that I didn't have to share the snacks with Mom because lately she has been trying to teach me a new trick with my cookies.
She wants me to look at her face when I do a Front and has taken to holding a cookie in her mouth when I run up to her. She then bends over and tries to encourage me to take it from her. She says that when I finally understand that this is what I am supposed to do, she will stand up straighter and straighter so at last I will look at her face when I come to a Front. Then she will spit the cookie to me.
I have a few problems with this, however. First of all, I don't like to share my cookies much. Secondly, I can't seem to remember that Mom has a cookie in her mouth since I still have the habit of looking to her hands for my treat. When I do remember, I am afraid Mom is going to eat her cookie (actually, it's mine) instead of giving it to me because this is what she does with everything else edible that goes into her mouth. Also, I also don't want to nip her lip. And lastly, I am not really sure how I feel about having a Mom who has dog breath.
Mom says we will keep working on this. When I get good at taking the cookie from her lips, she says she will learn to spit it to me. This would be fine if I could catch, but I can't. Zoe says not to be a ninny; catching cookies is really easy. Zoe can catch anything anywhere. Most cookies just bounce off my face. Maybe Zoe can help me learn so I can make Mom proud and treat me over and over.
Back at the horse show off, I snoozed in the shade while Mom remembered her time in the Jumping Ring long before I came into her life. Reluctantly, we both walked home as the sun climbed high enough in the sky to become too warm. I daydreamed about piles of horse heaven, Mom daydreamed about clear rounds, and our fallen hero dreamed about Merrylegs and apples under a leafy tree.
Sailor the Show Me collie |
