Our new dog, Molly, is such a funny, unpredictable little clown. She is as ornery as Ivy was (and those of you who have read Hiraeth in the past know how I love ornery dogs!) but she sees the world through very different eyes, having been born and raised as a hunter and having lived only in a barn before coming to us.
As I have time, I will write a bit more about Molly's past life and the joys and challenges of domesticating a three year old dog with a very strong hunt drive but, for this morning, I will give one example that happened just this morning.
With the very cold temperatures this winter, I have been watering my plants fairly regularly (which, as some of you know, is a real improvement as I normally only water my plants when they have begun to give up, shrivel and lay down.) I noticed my poor primroses, dried up and withering this morning, so I gave them a good watering and promised aloud to the rest of the plants that I'd try to remember them after I finished my coffee.
All seemed normal--for a while. I sipped my coffee and browsed the internet, Molly sat at my feet begging for treats (more about that later) and the morning was peaceful and calm--until Molly's nose went up and she began catapulting from couch to chair, from room to room.
She smelled something. That something must be investigated.
When she gets something into her head, she thinks of nothing else. When she gets something into her 'nose' it's all over. Her intensity knows no bounds. Her determination is a thing to behold. Her hunting skills engage and the race is on.
After quickly 'checking the perimeter,' she settled on the plants. Nose up, butt down, still as a stone but with a barely perceptible trembling of excitement. Molly had identified the foreign smell. Damp dirt. She strolled back to me and sat down with an air of, "Go on with your life, citizen. Nothing to see here," and sat again at my feet.
Good girl, Molly. Now I don't need to worry about THAT any more!