No Business Naming Things

We are dog watching this weekend. After work today I walked to retrieve the dog in question and walk her home and I immediate invoked my nascent Caesar-foo. I didn’t leave the house until she was calm and I corrected her whenever she tried to drag me along (every 2 seconds), stopping whenever she became impervious to the correction. It took us about twice as long as it could have to get home but in the end I think it was worth it. By the time we reached the front door she was pretty submissive. When I insisted that I go into the house before her she readily agreed.

And then things went sour. The cats caught sight of her. The boys, chickens that they are, raced downstairs like their asses were on fire. Surprisingly, Abby stood her ground. Not only did she stand her ground, but as I shucked my winter coat she brazenly came forward. I didn’t even notice her stalking us as I got the dog into the kitchen to be cleaned off. I turned around to find her mid pounce. If I had been half a second later the dog would be wearing Abby for a hat right now.

Tensions have subsided but Abby insists on giving the dog the stink eye from a few feets distance.

This isn’t ideal, obviously. Lexy and I are going with some friends to see Bellydance Superstars this evening in Hull which means the dog will be crated for a few hours more than we’d like. Hopefully Abby doesn’t figure out the crate and murder her while we’re gone.