Sophie at two, with Jacob
We celebrated Sophie's second birthday over the weekend. Even had a dinner party at which she was showered with gifts--a huge rawhide bone, a soft toy with no stuffing for her to pull out, bright tennis balls, and other things--but, alas, there was no place for her at the table and she was excluded from the happy hour because we grilled on the front porch and nobody wanted to hold her on a leash. Still after all the excitement of extra people around all weekend (particularly two six-year-olds) and her birthday party, she was pooped last night, so tired she didn't eat for two days though I'm pleased to report she has eaten her dinner tonight
Two is the point at which people told me she would be mature and calm down. I saw one of those charts that puts dogs into equivalent human ages (the old theory we were all taught about seven years for one has gone by the wayside). Sophie should be the equivalent of twenty-four. I've tried to explain that to her, but, sigh, not all twenty-four-year-olds are mature, and I fear she'll be a late bloomer. She has calmed down a lot but visitors, kids, etc. still excite her. And she has a definite mind of her own. As the groomer said to me the other day, "She's feisty" (She only tried to bite him twice; otherwise she gave him kisses.)
Jacob is here tonight, and since it's a school night I've been much stricter about bedtime. He doesn't like it and can find a dozen things that keep him awake, though he's pretty much decided we won't have a tornado. But the washing machine, motorcycles (?), and cars kept him awake in his room, so he migrated to my bed. Next Sophie stayed by him and then left and he wanted her to stay all the time--not sure how to explain that to my newly mature (?) dog.
You'll pardon me I hope if my string is a little short tonight. Sophie and Jacob are both bright spots in my life but they can also try my patience something fearful.