Mistaken identity

After the excitement of yesterday, it was with a sigh of relief that today rumbled along full of…nothing. Much.

I was mostly occupied with housework, enjoying the mundanity and the lack of pressing bodies squeezed into a metal cylinder. Though the weather has been extremely changeable, it’s not been too bad. To prove it, the guy was out trimming the cricket pitch up in the park. Not that he looked too impressed.

One highlight (there were two) was when Day-z ran off into the woods (Carmen is still on the lead). We left her to run around for a few minutes and then, when she hadn’t returned, I called her. She almost never returns on the first call so I called again and whistled.

I felt Carmen tugging on the lead and looked down. Standing there, looking at me all quizzical, was a white Westie, sitting, her tail wagging beneath her. I bent down and patted her, wondering where her owner was. Carmen said hello in her dog way, which was difficult given the Westie was sitting down.

I heard a voice in the distance calling out “Daisy?” and looked up. An old chap was striding towards us and the Westie looked around and ran off towards him.

Meanwhile, Day-z burst from the woods and ran straight towards this old chap as if it was me. When she reached him, she immediately realised her mistake. Her tail went down and she searched frantically for me. The old chap bent over to pat her but she was gone, running towards me like a frightened pheasant.

I smiled at Carmen as Day-z reached us. Carmen winked at me, realising this would never happen to her. I’ve yet to meet another dog called Carmen. I looked up, wanting to share the jape with the old chap but he’d turned around and wandered off with his Daisy.

The second highlight was a little more disastrous. While I was burning the cardboard and bits of paper with our names and address on them, Carmen decided she wanted to play with her sister. In order to do this, she grabbed Day-z’s favourite toy and ran around the garden with it in her mouth, teasing her sister mercilessly.

The first few times Carmen ran passed her, Day-z gave a few tentative snaps at the toy but generally pretended she wasn’t interested. This never lasts long and she suddenly made a successful grab at it, taking hold of one of the ends. There ensued a rough and tumble tug of war with the toy as the rope. And then it happened.

They suddenly split apart, rolling around, dazed and confused. Day-z dropped a round bit out of her mouth and Carmen looked at the remaining piece at her feet where she’d dropped it. Day-z was very, very confused. She picked up her piece and took it over to Carmen’s piece. Carmen, thinking she had to make herself scarce, came over to join me at the burn bin.

We watched as Day-z proceeded to move both pieces from safe place to safe place. She does this with her toys all the time. From the twisty tree to the bird table and back again. I have no idea what she’s doing or why. It’s also what she does when she’s sick of playing the retrieval game with me.

And so, for the rest of the day, poor Day-z has been playing with both bits. Her favourite game of placing the toy on the arm of the long lounge and watching it drop, is much quicker now with the ball end and a little less so with the other bit. Some times it’s tough for a poodle.