The neat freak

Fact: Emmy hates being dirty. She cleans her paws and face like a cat, will go awkwardly out of her way to avoid mud puddles, and won't even let sprinkler water touch her sensitive hide. But for reasons unknown, about once a year, our meticulously clean little dog finds something incredibly disgusting and gets it all over her petite self. Last year, she rolled in some sort of unnamed animal poop while she and Brad were vacationing at Priest Lake and had to have a bath, immediately. Since they weren't at home Brad had to use Head and Shoulders instead of dog shampoo, and she's been flake free ever since.

Two days ago, Brad and I took Emmy for a walk and for some bizarro reason, she rolled in a bunch of overripe plums. She smashed so much onto the top of her head that it seemed like she had covered it in gel, and it looked like she had gashes of plum blood on the sides of her body. When we got home she jumped onto the couch right away and I shrieked because I didn't want plum blood on it, but it turns out that all of the plum had hardened, much like hair gel, and was no longer leaving stains. So, it was into the bathtub with Emmy again, but this time she had her Pina Colada doggie shampoo.

She can be a little bit annoying sometimes, but even in the midst of that she always makes me laugh, and there is just nothing nicer than having a little dog live with us. Even when she gets water in her beard and drips it all over the kitchen floor, every day. Even when she jumped up to pick plums out of our backyard tree and broke her foot and had to be taken to the doggie emergency room. And especially when she greeted us at the front door one night with such an excited wag of the tail that the vet officially diagnosed her with a tail sprain. That's love.

Taming the beast

While Emmy and I were out prancing (as we refer to our walks) in the hot hot heat tonight, we crossed paths with a little boy and his dad, who were on bicycles. We paused to let them pass by. And then I heard the boy say this: "Dad, look! It's a baby wolf!" My wild, ferocious little Em. The wolf dog is currently curled up and sound asleep, in my bed.

silent stalking

This is where Emmy spends about 50 to 75 percent of her waking hours, usually looking out the window. Often peering intently into pitch blackness in hopes of spying a kitty.

Last week we caught Emmy out in the backyard, very still and statue-like, clearly stalking something. She was staring at the neighbor's hedge, where a neighborhood cat likes to lounge around. This particular cat and Emmy are bigtime frenemies. The cat drives Emmy crazy, and she either silently prepares to hunt it or screeches and cries and runs around, devastated that they can't be together (or that she can't hold the kitty oh so gently in her little dog fangs). On this particular night, she was focused on very still, intense stalking. I looked at the cat, and it was also focused on still, intense stalking. There are birds living in the hedge where the cat was. Lots and lots and lots of birds that usually poop on our car. The cat fixed its eyes on the depths of bird land, in the center of the hedge, and Emmy fixed her eyes on the cat. And I fixed my eyes on Jesus. Just kidding. I mean Emmy.

And then! The cat leaped into the air, landed on the on the hedge, and then vanished into the neighbor's backyard. Emmy went berserk and screamed and cried and shrieked and ran into the house to see if the cat was perchance now just casually sitting outside a different window. But the cat wasn't, because THEN it came silently strolling out from the bottom of the hedge, with a small bird in its mouth. Emmy panicked (maybe nervous for her bird friend?) and knocked over the fan pictured above. It made a ginormous crash, but Emmy was not bothered by that one bit.

brief week of freedom

Brad and I were at Priest Lake for a few days and just got back last night. It was very fun and relaxing and beautiful, and I still feel a little bit like I'm sitting on a gently rocking dock.

We took our dog Emmy with us, and it was pretty fun. It was the first time she'd gotten to come with us on real vacation, and she loved being out in the woods, running up to the very edge of the water but not getting in, and roaming the neighborhood (until a mean neighbor lady yelled at us to "get that dog on a leash!!!"-yikes).

I think Emmy got used to her brief week of freedom. Yesterday, on our way home, we stopped at Priest River for gas. When Brad came back to the driver's side door, Emmy jumped from the back of the car into the front seat. When he opened the door, she leaped out and darted into the convenience store.

Brad went running after her, both of them charging straight through the store and out its back door. I ran around the other side of the building (leaving the car doors wide open with all of our possessions temporarily up for grabs) hoping to cut Emmy off in the parking lot before she headed out into traffic. But, once I reached the back, she had already run back INTO the store. I ran back around to the car, Brad embarrassedly ran back through the store, and Emmy ran up to the car and jumped straight into the driver's seat once again, as if the whole thing had never happened.