Maybe visions of fireworks stilled danced in his head. Perhaps the extra sleep that is the benefit to the rest of us, of Boone’s new anti-anxiety medication protocol provided an energy boost. Possibly 15 minutes of fetching a rubber ball before breakfast, at 7:00 a.m., when the temperature is 80 and the humidity close to the same, is not enough. For him.
Whatever the reason, rowdy Rowdy showed up this morning at the Maple Lake Library. We started out nicely, well within Acceptable-Therapy-Dog-in-Public parameters. Unless we count that part where, for the first time ever, he crawled from the back seat over the center console to jump out of the truck as I wrestled our supply bag out of the front seat. He hit the sidewalk before the bag did, but sat nicely and waited patiently as I snapped his leash on the buckle. Good dog! Sort of.
He greeted the kids nicely, lying quietly, taking stock and taking advantage of the many bare toes presented at nose level. He could not resist the opportunity to sniff and smooch. Most of the readers tolerated, even enjoyed, the interaction, though one little girl was only too happy to use the towel I offered.
Our rough patch came during the actual Reading of the Story, which, given our goal of helping kids read by “sitting quietly on a blanket, listening to children without judgment, so that they build confidence in their skills”, does not bode well for our success rate of the future.
Rowdy seems to interpret “sitting quietly” to mean wriggling on his back, rolling over repeatedly, mouthing the leash, and/or pawing the edge of the blanket to craft himself a pillow.
The approximate total of 5 minutes of indiscretions seemed like 5 days, but as is becoming our routine, he composed himself and controlled his impulses by the we end of our book. Just in time to endear himself to his readers and his handler by closely overseeing the group’s work to solve a crossword puzzle.
The Reading with Rowdy spellchecker.
He even renewed a few friendships from last week’s joint session with the pre-schoolers, who came over to replenish their weekly reads. As I checked out books for the young patrons, with the Happy Hooligan on a “Down/Stay” under the desk, he did as instructed. With his head peeking out just far enough for them to pet his ears and him to kiss their feet.
It’s all in the interpretation.
From Four Sticks Farm 