Dog mentation. And play.

[ritaxis]

No words because I spent the whole day driving up and down Highway 1. My dear friend Glen lives in Pacific Grove -- the other end of Monterey Bay -- and needed to be driven to the hospital in Watsonville (halfway between). It was time-consuming, but on the plus side the bulk of the time was consumed in the company of my dear friend Glen. If you're familiar with Highway 1 from Northern California or Southern California, but not the Central Coast, you will be unduly impressed. In my neck of the woods, it's a decent highway and there are no dicey turns teetering over sheer hundred-foot-plus drops to the wave-ridden rocks below. You've got to get north of Half Moon Bay, or south of Carmel, to get that kind of stuff. Fortunately. I get this physical sensation that I'm going to die in the next few minutes, these days, riding those roads. Even having my dear friend Glen in the car would not have helped. Certainly I suffer even when the nice fellow is driving.

So we took Truffle to Lighthouse Field again today and it was spring fever all over. The dogs were running, running, running in circles, loops, packs, and lines. They rolled over, they leapt, they barked, they slobbered all over each other. It was hysterical. But the interesting thing happened when we first got to the park. Truffle and the nice fellow have a tradition -- this is the fourth spring of her little life: when the grass and radishes get tall enough, and until they've gone yellow and laid down again, the nice fellow hides and Truffle looks for him. Today she initiated play for the first time by running out into the deepest radishes and leaping up to look -- though he wasn't hiding yet: he took the hint and hid. Then aftger she had gone in the wrong direction for a while, she followed my gaze to where he was hiding. And the best leap forward of all -- after she found him, she ran away and hid herself! In the same fashion -- hunkered down in the radishes, quietly waiting to be found. From my angle I could see the whole thing. She was so pleased when the nice fellow found her.

Catch a cat elaborating on hide and seek like that. Though as Loki becomes more affectionate he seems to think more too.

Comments

[marykaykare.livejournal.com]

It depends on the cat. I've got one right here next to me who will play games, initiate them, and sometimes even ring changes. The one crouched up on the headboard of the bed just likes doing the same things over and over. But since what he likes doing most is snuggling up next to me and purring in my ear I can hardly complain!

That said, I've been having dog hunger. I grew up with dogs, but have had only cats since leaving home. Right now we can't have one -- we travel to much. But someday I'm going to be of those revolting old ladies who takes her little yappy dog with her everywhere.

MKK

[ritaxis.livejournal.com]

Min pins (miniature pinschers). They are as small as chihuahuas and not nearly so yappy. Or terriers, if you can handle the strong personalities . . . not all of them bark a lot.

I used to think I disliked little dogs. But I got to know one, and realized that as far as he was concerned, he was a real dog, and I started looking at them with new eyes. Now I like them fine, though a huge dog is a comfort. Truffle is short, but she weighs fifty pounds of solid muscle and bone.

[jackiejj.livejournal.com]

We have Jasper, a Newfoundland, an old dog of eight.

He weighs one hundred ten pounds and fills hallways.

(I wish he had a friend to play hide-and-seek with. What a story!)