Four-Legged Clover: Week 26 Six Months

I'm Six Months Old TODAY

We made it through the first chapter of our canine journey. Clover is officially six months old, and it's a huge milestone to celebrate. Dog ownership has been quite the adventure, and though there are some rather challenging moments, life with a Vizsla is truly amazing. She is the first family member we've grown to think of in the morning; "quick, let the dog out! (as someone sleepily rolls out of bed) and the last one at night; "sweet dreams girl, kennel up". Most importantly, we've learned so much about ourselves since her arrival.

Morning Hugs

Our weekend was busy with a visit from my parents (they adore Clover), Great Lakes and BUBBLES. Yes bubbles. Those little soap balloons had her twisting and leaping with determination to EAT them. Strange, but true. We had great laugh watching her.

Check out the vid link! Crazy dog.

Clover Discovers Bubbles

So, where are we going?

Clover got her first ride in Grammies vehicle as we took the last trip to the hospital before her impending spay in the Fall. It was a huge relief to get that Rabies injection, completing her vaccine series. The clinic had recently been bleached, which made her very nervous (and me too). The staff fussed over her size as she weighed in at 40.2 lbs and measured 22.5" at the wither. In a few short months our 13 pound pup is nearly full grown. Our vet was delayed in surgery so we made friends with his associate who thought she was a red Weimaraner! Apart from the normal intermittent bouts of puppy vaginitis she's in perfect health.

I used a few obedience hand signal commands while checking out and she had a room of pet parents in fits of giggles. Clover dropped straight to the floor in side lying "sleep" mode. Despite the high level of distraction she remained fairly focused on me and managed to leave a pretty big impression! The trip home however resulted in my poor pup exploding from both ends. Ugh. I kept her under close observation for several hours and notified the doctor but she seemed to return to normal by dinner.

It's not unusual to see a dog frolicking in the water. They often get head-to-toe soaking wet. And when the fun is over, there's the puppy dog shake. Ya know, the shake your fur silly dance, sending human company cringing for cover. Of course Clover however, has a different perspective on this kind of play. She is perfectly comfortable drenched right through the skin, fancy dog moves optional. But, that face, MUST dry off immediately. And since towels are not the most logical canine choice, your pant leg, or shirt, a random chair cushion...and in these shots, the dense hedge appeared to be a good option.

Not happy about her wet face after a long cool drink.

The boxwood hedge makes a good towel? Seriously?

Much happier rid of those pesky droplets!

Head massage and sprinkler water = LOVE
(And for the record that's a new drink safe hose)

"Hey, what's with the giant water bowl in my kennel? And you want me to do what? Walk in it? Ugh!"

And there it is. The first 3-legged Clover. Wondering why her family has simply lost their marbles in favour of this pool concept.

But it soon became a tranquil fishing hole for bones, to pass the humid afternoons away.

I love the fact this summer has been hot and dry. We've been outside all day, everyday for weeks. That means mischief is on the decline with the youngest member of our family. At least three dozen worms have been saved by the lack of rain. Hardened clay becomes to difficult too excavate into Clover's archeological projects. And we're less likely to trip over various toys as the clutter disappears in a large outdoor space.

I've learned however that my blueberry bush produces gourmet chewing sticks and the mangled veggie markers make for a fantastic game of "Tag", and heaven forbid the pool noodles are left out...because the lawn gleams with multi-coloured foam confetti. The grass hasn't faired nicely with doggy evidence and I'm a fighting a decent battle of the green blades. I vow to win, but if by chance I am beaten, it's like wearing proud battle scars from a season of memories;

midnights of watering down acidic urine...the rush to pick up poop before the disgusting flies find it... repeat water... raking up the beaten patches... water again... and then of course there is the unavoidable track pattern established by both son and his partner in crime.