He's no angel

Look at this face. Does he look like he'd ever do anything terribly wrong? I can't let you all think that he's a perfect angel, because he's not. Yes, he's a good dog. But today, he and my husband had a near-altercation. And by the time I returned home from work, George was skulking about as my husband began to relate the sordid tale to me.

Oh, I feel as if I'm tattling on him. But what he did was bad.

Every day, George gets to ride along with my husband in the truck, as my husband makes his many stops to prepare for the daily breeding. There are mares to check at all the different barns and oftentimes, George is let out of the truck to visit with other dogs. When it's time to return to the truck, he usually always comes running.

Not today.

Today, he did not come running. Not just once, but three times. And the third time was when my husband pulled up to his office to make a phone call. He left the truck window down because it was getting just a little warm. When he returned to the truck, George was nowhere to be found, nor did he come when called. My husband had to check his temper, I'm sure.

Finally, George arrives. He'd probably been off sniffing something or *gasp* chasing something. This is not good on a horse farm. My husband drives him home because the dog's rounds with dad end at 10:30 AM. My husband opens the car door and gets out, telling George to get out. George refuses by turning his head. Then my husband comes around to the other side and opens the door, telling the dog to get out. George promptly jumps into the driver's seat.

Of course, now my husband is mad and he reaches for George, who growls. Growls! Look at this sweet face. He has never growled at me.

That's when my husband yanked him by the collar and pulled him from the truck and told him he was bad.

I believe in karma, though. My husband wrenched his back pulling the dog out of the truck. It's not terrible, but it hurts. And it's bad karma.

The dog is still skulking somewht. If I were in charge for the day, he would be kept home tomorrow as punishment. He would not have the doggie door available to him to go in and out of the house as he pleases. He would have to play by himself with his toys and his sticks in the yard.

I felt bad for him, even though he growled at my husband. But it's a bad thing to growl at your master. I took him for a walk anyway, and I went slowly because today for some reason, I'm tired. I took the macro lens with me and got these pictures. George stayed right by me because he could tell he was still in the doghouse.

The first picture is a peony bud. Soon we'll have massive amounts of flowers. It's the best the peony plant has ever been and I'm glad of it. Such a rich, wonderful aroma these flowers have. Then there's a little white flower I saw in the woods. I should know what this is, but I don't. And finally, a bud and a flower from a tulip poplar tree.

I can see George outside now, on the deck. He's solacing himself with a rousing chewing session on SC, otherwise known as Stray Cat.

Before I end, I'd like to thank Lori, one of our librarians at the school, for lending me our school copy of James Herriot's Favorite Dog Stories. I've been reading it all evening.