A walk in the park

Where I live, there is a neighborhood dog park. I'm not saying it's the cat's meow, but it suffices when the weather is beautiful and the fur babies want more than just your typical walk. Of course, along with this park comes a variety of little fuzzy creatures that make this park home, specifically - moles and rabbits, with an occasional squirrel.

While taking Millie and Harlie on their morning turn around the block, we encountered a few squirrels, which of course signaled trouble for my shoulders (Millie once dislocated a shoulder - thankfully, not mine) and I'm too stubborn or soft-hearted to use the gentle leader.

But I digress. While on this walk, Harlie has decided that a trip to the park is in order. After all, there might be a rabbit munching on breakfast! Let me note here that when Harlie wants to go somewhere you go. Period. End of story. If you don't go in the direction that she wants to go, she will lay down in the grass, on the sidewalk, or in the middle of the street. Harlie is also known to stretch her front paws out in just the right position so that if you keep pulling on the leash to get her to stand up, the harness comes right off and she is free to run wherever her heart desires.

This morning, my husband was with  me since he works nights at Wild Ginger. So all four of us somehow make it safely to the park. And that's where the fun begins. My husband runs around like a crazy man waving his arms while the dogs try to chase him and each other. I have a video and if I can figure out how to post it, I will let the world see how silly a person can be with their dogs.

Millie tries to dig at the various mole holes around the park and completely zones out, refusing to listen to either myself or my husband, which is unusual since she always listens to my husband. Me? not so much. Like I said, I'm too soft-hearted and she knows that the most discipline she will receive from me is a few seconds of a stern glance. Harlie is running around in circles picking up what had to have been her own personal best speed before immediately stopping and throwing herself on the ground to eat some dirt. Why she eats the dirt I have yet to figure out. I'd like to think she's hunting for bugs and that's what she finds attractive because it's dirt. It has no taste (that I know of) and the very thought of ingesting it myself is disgusting. But Harlie is a dog and maybe dirt is like the piece de resistance of the week. Who knows. Have any of you readers out there experienced this with your own pets? What are your theories?

And now, here I sit at home with two very exhausted sleeping pooches. The husband is wandering around here somewhere and I'm taking a few moments of "me" time. At least the laundry is done, and put away - I don't need any repeats from yesterday.