According to what I just saw on Nature, baboons show signs of stress and depression over their status in the social group. I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse. Deposed males get ulcers and high blood pressure.
I’ve been mostly internal lately, stuck in my own head. That doesn’t leave me in the right mood to share and blog. I’m working on that right now. I’m trying to focus on the things that make me happy. I went to the arboretum and took pictures. I love taking pictures, and I love the arboretum. Being outdoors, in a lovely garden, with my camera…everything just melts away. All the stresses, the worries none of that matters. Just the moment. It’s similar when I’m working with my dog.
I also got a few new plants this week. Like I totally need more plants. But one of them is a miniature violet. It’s in a two inch pot! It’s so tiny and adorable. I think I can find somewhere to put such a small plant. I was originally looking for a bromeliad, and I ended up getting one, but not the sort I wanted. I did find a place to order some online, but I’m trying to wait a few weeks. I try to not get too many new plants at once, and I just got three.
I repotted some plants today. I do so love getting my hands in the dirt. I can’t truly garden, but I can have an obscene number of houseplants.
The good thing about all this is that I’m really starting to narrow down the kinds of plants that I can grow the best. I’m doing well with violets and bromeliads. I’m ok with phalenopsis orchids, sometimes they do great and bloom, sometimes they are disappointing, and rarely I kill them. I’ve got some other assorted plants, like my Rex begonia, fittonias (which I think I’m going to cut back on) and dracaena.
Or I’m sticking to my violets and bromeliads because they won ribbons in the state fair ;)
There’s a giant ad on Jez right now that says “Trust Stupid. Be Stupid.” for diesel jeans. No comment on the ad, but it fits the current climate, no?
I’m certainly no dog training expert. You only have to meet my large silly mutt to understand that. As he throws himself at people because he’s just so excited. It’s a challenge that we have to deal with, certainly. And I don’t ignore it. Sometimes it is hard to break through his excitement, but it is a process. There is no magic technique to apply so I suddenly have a little angel. Little by little, we make improvements. Repetition helps. So will age. He’s about 2 1/2, and he is an adolescent. As he gets older, he will calm down and focus more.
But that’s my Rigby, and I adore him for all his ridiculousness. I’m sure a real trainer would be able to create results more quickly, but y’know? It works for us. We have fun.
On to my point. I was out on my porch watering my plants when I heard my neighbor yell at his dog. It sounded like he let the do out on the porch and was coming in a few minutes to take it out. The dog peed on the porch. The guy had a fit and started yelling at his dog, “I told you I was coming in a minute, why did you pee on the chair?” All exasperated and angry at the dog.
I’m a big fan of looking at things from the dog’s point a view, as much as possible. So let’s consider this dog.
Dogs don’t understand later. Maybe he was pacing at the door. Maybe he was whining. Or just sitting by the door. “Hey, human. I really need to go out. Can you open the door? Please?” I should also mention this isn’t the first time the dog has gone on the porch. The owner opens the door. “Wait there, dog. I’ll be with you in a minute. Let me get my shoes/the leash/answer the phone/whatever.” The dog doesn’t understand this conversation. The dog has to go. He is, in his mind, in an acceptable place to go. He doesn’t understand all this human blather. Would you tell a toddler that you are potty training to wait? No, you move heaven and earth to run that kid to the bathroom.
So the human feels angry, like they warned the dog and he peed anyway. Because he’s stupid, disobedient, obnoxious. The dog is really confused. He had to go, he’s gone here before, and did he mention that he really had to go?
What’s the right way to deal with this? Set your dog up for success. Schedules are great. I take take the boys out at set times. So they know, I know, nobody has to sit around in discomfort. Orion particularly has learned (in his previous home) that he won’t get another opportunity to do his business, and has less hesitancy about going in the house.
You know the dog has a habit of going on the porch. So don’t give him the opportunity. Take him out more often until you are certain he gets the idea. Put him on a leash in the house, walk him through the problem area. Use an enzymatic cleaner so he can’t smell where he already marked.
It’s annoying when the dog goes in the house or somewhere you didn’t want, but it’s not the dog’s fault. Dogs try really hard to communicate with us, and they must think we are great idiots most of the time for missing the message.
How come every time I start to get it together and be able to move forward, something else falls apart, and I’m left holding the pieces? And then something else blows up, and something else, and I’m just covered in shrapnel and too tired to care.
I was trying to keep the whining out of this journal, but sometimes, you got to let it out.
I’ve had a new dog come into my life, and this has created lots of stress. And he’s got a list of issues a mile long. And now my dear sweet giant mutt who might just be my soul mate has something small we need to take care of too. As my dad said, “the expensive pet bills fairy visited you.” Not to mention stress. Again, I had a blog blooming about dogs, because they are central to my life and I find them fascinating, but once again, I’ve barely got the energy to cope with the day to day crap going on, much less blog.
I started this blog to have a place for my ideas, and hopefully intelligent thoughts, minus the whining and self-pity that infects my other blogs. I keep getting ideas from this book I’ve been reading, but I tend to read before I go to bed, and not blog then. I’ve been meaning to do more photo work, too. But I just hit some major stress, and I feel like I walked into a tornado. Stress has bled all my energy, so I can barely keep it together for life, much less have creative energy to spare for thought or photo blogging. I need a nap.
I’m really excited about entering my plants in the state fair. I’ve got two months before entries are due, so I spent some time today giving some TLC to some of my plants hoping that it will pay off and they’ll look their best.
I also went and got a new violet. I love the orchids, really I do, but they are finicky and spend most of their time not blooming. Thinking about what to enter, my violets immediately came to mind. I’ve got crazy happy violets. They grow like crazy and bloom and I don’t have to do anything to them.
So of course, I want to collect more of them, because that’s what I do. I looked online and found a violet nursery really close to here, less than 15 minutes. And they have fancy varieties. And the great thing about violets is they aren’t expensive, $2 for ordinary ones, $6 for nicer ones. Way better than orchids. I might go and check that out next week, even though I don’t have anywhere to put them. Or I guess I could do some rearranging and put them on the window sill.
Plants make me excited, y’all. I didn’t do hardly anything useful today. Just plant time.
DOG: I’m going to sit in your lap now.
Me: Uh, you’re a little big for that.
DOG: I need a hug. I want to sit in your lap.
*sad eyes* *he has EPIC sad eyes. he looks sad even when he’s happy*
Me: Oh, all right.
DOG: YAY! *climbs into lap* *squish*
Me: Are you comfy? Because, you know, I’m not. *being crushed by 55lbs of dog*
DOG: *wags* *beats me in the knee with tail*
Fast forward a bit…
Gravity: *takes over*
DOG: *slowly oozes to the floor* *looks around, sighs, naps*
Honestly, all I want to do is call my mom and complain, but she’s out of town and won’t be back until Sunday, I think. If I call my dad, he’ll just tell me to go to the doctor and treat me like an idiot or a child for not going all ready. I have no clue when my mom is getting back. I can’t stand, can barely hobble, can’t bend. So my apartment is a mess and I don’t have any food and couldn’t exactly cook anything anyway.