I woke up this morning and looked at the numbers on the clock... 7:30... the sun was out and the bedroom was bright and my first thought was that Savannah didn't bark once after I came up the stairs last night.
Savannah's usual routine is to give me one lonely-sounding bark after I come up those back stairs from the kitchen. Sometimes I do have to go back down the stairs.... Did I lock the door? Did I leave a night-light on for Savannah? Does she have enough water in her bowl? On those little trips into the kitchen, Savannah will slowly walk over to me and sit by my feet. Then she puts one paw on my knee, then her other paw on my other knee... and she sits there looking up at me with the innocence of a two-year-old child. And I stand there and pet her and tell her that it's time for everyone to go to sleep, especially little (well, not so little) puppies.
There are nights when Savannah will hear something outside (like a raccoon on the porch) and she will bark for all she's worth. On those nights, I have to either go down the stairs to calm her, or just call out her name from the top of the stairs. If she does have to go outside and visit the grass during the night, she will continue to give me just one bark every ten seconds or so... her signal to me that she really needs to go out. That usually happens on the coldest and rainiest of nights which are devoid of moonlight and starlight... and I feel like I'm the only person left in the world out there on the road. (Savannah just refuses to relieve herself too close to the house.)
So when I wake up in the morning and I haven't heard Savannah during the night, the first thing I do when I get into the kitchen is to thank that puppy for such a good night's sleep. Invariably, Savannah just looks at me and yawns.
This puppy's latest self-taught trick is to investigate the bottom of her food bowl when it's filled with her dry kibble. In order to do this, Savannah uses her nose to push the food over the sides of the bowl, which results in a halo of kibble all around that bowl. Then she sniffs at the bits of food in that halo, picking out her favorite pieces, pushing the least favorites further out to form a second halo. She will eventually eat up all the pieces of kibble, usually leaving teeny tiny bits which will then be pushed around the floor by our cat Sweet Pea. I've lost count as to how many times I've swept that kitchen floor since Savannah came into our lives.
Sweet Pea has remained his sweet little cat-self during all these past months since the puppy invasion. I know that Sweet Pea wasn't all too pleased when we first brought Savannah into the back door, and that cat certainly kept his distance for the first few weeks. Not once did Savannah try to hurt Sweet Pea... on the contrary, Savannah would have been thrilled if Sweet Pea had wanted to play with her as puppies do. Being a cat, Sweet Pea wasn't going to agree to that nonsense... but from time to time, Sweet Pea will use his paw like a hockey stick and push one of Savannah's dog treats across the floor and Savannah will immediately get up to retrieve it.
Savannah will be nine months old on the 12th of this month. When I brought her to the vet's office to be weighed last week, she was 56 pounds. I doubt very much that she will grow into the 80 pounds that the vet had estimated. My guess is that she'll be 70 pounds or less when she's full grown, which is enough for a dog who is as strong as she has proven to be.
Walking along the road with Savannah has been less of a leash-fight these past couple of weeks. She loves to walk and does walk well on her leash... the problems occurred when a truck or car passed us on the road. Mild-mannered old-soul Savannah turned into Cujo, growling and snarling and trying to chase those vehicles away. While I admired her sense of protecting me, she was stretching my arms to their limit and nearly pulling me down because she's so strong (and strong-willed).
I bought Savannah a new choker-collar that fits her much better than the old one, plus now I remove her fancy collar before I put that choker on her. The result is more control over her, especially when she tries to chase cars and trucks. One good pull on that leash makes the new choker collar tight around her neck and she can't growl and bark, much less try to pull me into the road in her quest to catch the vehicle.
Patience, thy name is Puppy. Or maybe that should be: Patience, thy name is Puppy Owner.
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