It's a Dog's Life

The cat hates her, but Roxy has settled in. Most of the initial "We've got a dog now?" wrinkles have been ironed out.

Roxy's brought some new rubs to the equation since.

Our biggest dog investment was finishing our fence. No longer do I grab a leash and venture forth into the cold. No longer do we occasionally borrow our neighbors' back yard to run the young-ins energy out.

No, I throw open the sliding glass door and say "Get out there!"

I may wander to a window to peek out from the heated indoors or I may not. It's made dog ownership far more comfortable. 

Roxy enjoys the yard, too. She often doesn't want to come back in; she wants us to go out with her. 

This new tactic, while warmer, has brought some new issues to light.

1. Doggy landmines

I swear I step on one every time I go out. The logs are concealed amongst the tall grass and leaves. The smell following me is usually my first clue something's amiss. I used to scoop piles when Roxy was on the leash, but that stopped the moment I didn't have to be out with her. 

I'll have to live in World War T for Turd until I clean yard.

The cold front will be a blessing: I'd rather collect frozen dog logs than a steaming pile of Roxy.

2. Holes

I quote The Complete Idiot's Guide to German Shepherd Dogs:  "Don't get a German Shepherd if you can't appreciate the stark beauty of a moonscape. Just think of the extra physical exercise your thoughtful dog has arranged for you as you leap over holes and shovel the dirt back into them, and the mental exercise as you ponder why there's never enough dirt to fill them back up."

Carrie checked out the book. I opened the book up, read one paragraph, and that was it. I thought, "I've never had a dog that was a digger before. Roxy hasn't shown much inclination for it, either."

The next day she was halfway underground. I think she was trying to visit our other neighbor's dogs.

And no, there was not anywhere near enough dirt near the hole to easily fill it back in: Roxy was wearing the rest of it.

She's dug up and run around the yard with the occasional sheet of weed block fabric I installed, too.

3. Dirty Dog Syndrome

Have you seen the video where the fox hunts the field mice in the snow? If not, watch it first (it's awesome).

Now substitute the fox with Roxy and the snow with a giant mud puddle. 

You have an image of what I witness out my back window.

All of the odd weather, snow, and rain has turned my back yard into a swamp. Roxy LOVES it. She runs around hopping like a gazelle. She sprints and then slides into a 180 tearing up turf and spraying mud. Today, I watched her run over to her half-dug swimming pool and jam her head underwater. 

Roxy's play is highly amusing and cringe inducing simultaneously. I try to let her in and out quickly to prevent the mess. If I see it's too late, I'll let her run around and enjoy the show before clean-up commences. Odds are I'll be the one dealing with the mud.

Wet dog smell never bothered me. It hardly registers. Carrie, on the other hand, can't stand it. Her face crinkles up and she looks at me with no-cat-ever-smelled-like-this eyes. She'll still do what needs to be done, though. My wife is a trooper. She's cleaned a mud-coated Roxy multiple times, but I try to do it if at all possible because I know it bugs her.

Roxy is probably going to get a professional bath for Christmas.

UPDATE - Roxy DID get a pro bath for Christmas! It wasn't the gift she was expecting or would have wanted.

It sure made Carrie happy, though!