Warning to Readers: This post contains content that may not be suitable for the squeamish. At the very least, put down that sandwich!
While I was away last week visiting Coconut and Daughter , Sophie was left in the capable hands of Hubby, aka Mr. Procrastinator. However, I was concerned about Sophie--Mr. P and I have different views on
child-dog-rearing. While I keep a close eye on her or walk her on a leash, Mr. P prefers to "let her run." "She needs the exercise," he scolds me, "and she'll come back when she's ready." That may be true, but like a child who knows which parent is the pushover, Sophie comes when Mr. P calls, but likes to tease me and often pretends to be deaf when I call her.
Nevertheless, I came home to find her safe and sound and so happy to see me. She's even been better behaved since I came home. She loves to join me in the garden, sometimes just content to supervise, but other times "helping" me dig a hole for a plant, raking up mulch, or mixing up the compost pile all by herself:) But if the chores become too tedious, she starts to wander off. Yesterday, I realized she was no longer beside me. I scanned the fields for her wagging tail and eventually saw her in the back yard of a house in the neighboring subdivision. Uh-oh. I grabbed her leash and set out across the muddy field, crunching through the cornstubble.
"Yuck! Sophie don't eat it . . ."