Isn't Buttercup a mouthful of a name for tiny white poodle? It does rather roll off the tongue, though. Especially when shouted.
Buttercup's owner is J's (87 year old) mother. We spent some time with her and Buttercup on the way back from North Carolina.
When we arrived, we took our luggage in through the opened garage, up the steps, and into the back hall to our usual bedroom. Buttercup ran barking to greet us while cries of: "Buttercup! Come back here!" rang after her. Buttercup had to be shooed back into the living room before she thought about answering the frenetic calls.
We found J's mother ensconced in her throne-like recliner which has extra cushions on the seat, the better to rise from it. Sharing the chair with her was the newest member of the family: a small Cocker Spaniel named Molly. Unsure of Molly's temperament, I held out my hand to let her smell the back of it. She sniffed and then licked it with a dry (thank you) tongue. Molly, it turns out, is a sweetheart.
She is also not trained completely. Housebroken, yes. But she considers herself top dog, after Buttercup. J's mom comes in as a distant third in the canine hierarchy.
It was interesting when we took Molly to the vet for a checkup. I walked her, not allowing her to pull me, nor to lead me through doors.
When we departed after three days, Molly would (most times) sit at the back door and wait for permission to cross the threshold instead of bolting.
We'll see . . .
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3 comments:
Molly sounds adorable.
Molly sounds like she has met her match - in that Ranger is channeling The Dog Whisperer!
I have found that our little (in height, not in girth) Daisy minds much better when I act like the boss of her, too.
Working with Mollie a little bit made me remember how much I enjoy doing that.
We had always taught our dogs not to bolt the door because it was safer for visitors and safer for the dog, too.
Teaching them to stop on command was harder but it saved Robbie's bacon, once. He was coming toward me from across the street and a car turned our corner. His furry bottom planted itself on the grass when I held up my hand like a traffic cop. Good dog!
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