And while Monday seemed to decide that laziness was overrated and something (anything, really) needed to happen, nothing eventful with Finn happened until Tuesday. Early Monday was fairly normal. I slept away the morning in order to greet the afternoon with restful eyes (my sleeping schedule is whack cause of work, so no judgy). Aside from traveling a fair distance for the sake to save money and shopping for food with the rude masses, grocery shopping went the way it always does for me: painfully slow while, ironically, trying to make it pass fast. By the time we (I and my mother) were able to narrowly escape, the sun was gone. Finn was in the vehicle the whole time, so after a little super-vised romping around the yard once we got home, he was back inside and signaling for bed with the drooping of his eyes. We take him with us in the vehicles a lot and while he visibly enjoys it, it also wears on him.
Tuesday passed much the same way Monday did except for no grocery shopping. Instead we went to Target, haha. Deciding to give Finn a break, I left him at home in the crate. We wouldn't be gone long and I rarely leave him in there aside from at night. And I knew he would be happy to play outside once again when I arrived home.
We ended up making it back around the same time my dad comes home from work.
To feed you a bit of insight on this, my dad has been teasing Finn about going outside pretty much any chance he gets. Because Finn likes to go outside so much (as any dog does) my dad says "Finn...you want to go outside?"
This phrase is wielded by him for two reasons. One: Finn's come a long way, but he's still scared of my dad. This makes the question that much more appealing because he can test Finn to see if he will answer to him the way he does to me (tail wagging followed by his certain approach). Two: Finn knows his name and the word "outside". Outside means play, happiness and bathroom breaks. Therefore it gets him excited and ready for play. Or in my dads case, terrified yet looking at me to concede and take him outside like dad said anyway.
So when Finn came in to the living room and curled up in his safe spot it was no surprise that my dad took to it as if on cue.
"Hi Finn" he said, pausing with a sly smile aimed at me before "You want to go outside?"
I laughed, got up and grabbed the tools of the trade. Dangling the harness and leash from my fingers, I held them out and said "You better start putting your money where your mouth is. Take him outside, hunh"
To my surprise and amusement, my dad asked if I really wanted him to and seemed genuinely excited to do so. When I told him I did because I thought it might help Finn warm up to him more, my dad was happy to oblige.
I had learned a few months back that once I had begun walking Finn, he quickly became a leech on my hip. And when I had my mother having to walk him when I was at work, he eased up to her too. He had already made it as far as following my dad in to a room with him, so he seemed ready enough to walk with him too.
When we first got outside, Finn did this number:
Pup was brave enough to walk with and be led by Grampy, but he couldn't get too far from me without this pitiful gaze sent back every now and again. Seemingly going to be a hopeless walk as he continued to stop, look at me, walk and repeat, my dad and I chuckled, but kept walking him to see if he would find any means of comfort. And he did. As time went on and my dad walked him around his usual route along the yard, Finn eased up, lifted his paw as he listened to the birds and tried giving chase (a new quirk he's revealed) as well as any dog can on a 5ft leash.
He did this for the rest of the walk, struggling to drag the Gramps along with him so that he could effectively (in his mind) catch the birds. That once careful step and constant glance back at mom was forsaken for diverted attention, bathroom breaks and bird calls. Making for a happy doggy and a happy Grampy.The next day, Gramps was the first to volunteer his services for dog-walking. I hadn't even thought about it yet seeing as I had already taken Finn out once before. Since all I had to do was walk with them though, I didn't turn down the offer.
It went much the same with Finn being scared and timid at first before lapsing in to full-blown insane bird-chaser mode.
And while Finn is still scared of Grampy in the house more than he is of him outside, I hold high hopes that the walking is going to pay-off in the long run (pun intended).
While one mile-stone is now in the process of being tackled, another arose alongside it. Or rather, I put it there.
After being effectively petrified from taking Finn off the leash due to horror stories of new adoptees that got lost or killed, I had pretty much resolved to keep Finn on his leash for at least a year (yeah, I know *eye roll*). I must have had what my mom would call a "wild-hair up my butt" because today (January 09, 2013), I daringly enough took him off his leash.
He did extremely well and I will be attempting this more often than not. I don't really want to explain what he did more than I want to show you. I took videos of his first time off the leash (since moving in with me). It was a big mile-stone for the both of us, so I thought it would be best documented rather than recalled.
And since blogger has such a hard time uploading a video through my internet, I have uploaded them to youtube for your viewing pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/user/ndisoftheking?feature=mhee
Also, the video: "Humor Me. Just take the stick." only makes sense on audio, if not just scaring you about the level of my insanity.
Oh! Before I forget to mention this (cause I know I will), I received my replacement gloves the other day! Unfortunately, the widowed glove expired a short while after its spouse. And while I might normally embellish it, saying that it died of heartache; it did not. Finn decided perishing the exact same way, with the exact same markings as its partner was a death befitting enough in itself.
Let see how long I can keep these mittens away from Finn's mouth, yeah?
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