Pack Dynamics
Sep. 29th, 2009 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
summer_jackelThe dogs are charming. I am watching Chaos play with Rogue, very carefully so as not to overwhelm her. For once, she is reciprocating, pouncing lightly back at him with delicate pleasure. This is new; Rogue is very much on her dignity with the puppies, and while she will do her best to encourage them to spar with each other on walks and at the beach, she usually doesn't like to play with them directly.
Puppies play too hard and lack awareness of personal space, and though I am sometimes tempted to think of Rogue as a puppy still, I am out of date. She is not the pup I remember; she is our dominant female, menopausal, and a small dog. Rogue does not like to be stepped on, and she is probably feeling some of the aches and pains of middle age, though being a dog, she does not complain. No, there's a line she crossed; Skeeter was her age-companion and he is gone, and though I wanted Coba to fill that space in her life, he must, I think, remain puppy and not partner for her. Rogue has far more in common with Jez who, also bereft, has taken the doghouse that was once Pryde's. She is calmer than she ever was, older; Jez who I always thought of as the puppy as well.
It is a new time and these new dogs are starting to be less of strangers to me. They are gentler, sweet little dogs, easier to live with if less magnificent than a pack of three wolves. Jez is still wolf, still fierce, but perhaps enjoying her age and quiet amongst such soft puppies.
I have taught Chaos to fetch. I forget that you have to explain these things; the first time I threw a tennis ball for him, he stared at me in blank non-comprehension. There are moments when I wonder if he can actually see past that muzzle. But no, he'll fetch toys for me now with great excitement, and he is good at finding them when I throw them in difficult places. He has a sense of humor, this dog, and fairness, and perhaps the glimmerings of the subtle character that once earned collies literary status and fame. He at least gets that the thing to do with a thrown toy is not to let it bounce off the side of his head---that has to be a start. Chaos is beginning to understand that in order to court a middle-aged sheltie, one must not step on her, and perhaps we are all beginning to grow as a pack together, and to grow up.
Puppies play too hard and lack awareness of personal space, and though I am sometimes tempted to think of Rogue as a puppy still, I am out of date. She is not the pup I remember; she is our dominant female, menopausal, and a small dog. Rogue does not like to be stepped on, and she is probably feeling some of the aches and pains of middle age, though being a dog, she does not complain. No, there's a line she crossed; Skeeter was her age-companion and he is gone, and though I wanted Coba to fill that space in her life, he must, I think, remain puppy and not partner for her. Rogue has far more in common with Jez who, also bereft, has taken the doghouse that was once Pryde's. She is calmer than she ever was, older; Jez who I always thought of as the puppy as well.
It is a new time and these new dogs are starting to be less of strangers to me. They are gentler, sweet little dogs, easier to live with if less magnificent than a pack of three wolves. Jez is still wolf, still fierce, but perhaps enjoying her age and quiet amongst such soft puppies.
I have taught Chaos to fetch. I forget that you have to explain these things; the first time I threw a tennis ball for him, he stared at me in blank non-comprehension. There are moments when I wonder if he can actually see past that muzzle. But no, he'll fetch toys for me now with great excitement, and he is good at finding them when I throw them in difficult places. He has a sense of humor, this dog, and fairness, and perhaps the glimmerings of the subtle character that once earned collies literary status and fame. He at least gets that the thing to do with a thrown toy is not to let it bounce off the side of his head---that has to be a start. Chaos is beginning to understand that in order to court a middle-aged sheltie, one must not step on her, and perhaps we are all beginning to grow as a pack together, and to grow up.
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Date: 2009-10-01 02:55 am (UTC)