Written 10/1/14

A youngster takes a lot of attention.  At 15 months, she’s probably as tall as she will be, although the last time I thought she was finished growing, just a couple of weeks ago, she grew a little more.  I was looking at her one day thinking she was approaching a mature proportion a bit early.  A few days later, she was taller and lankier again.  That’s the way it goes.  Don’t get in a hurry.

This young lady, much like other of her relatives who have grown up with me, has been a very busy kid with a lot of energy and an active imagination.  One of her favorite activities, as with her other relatives, is a “blasting routine”, where she impresses herself (and the rest of us) with her starting gate practice, as if she has suddenly been shot from a Newf cannon.  Then she runs like mad, here, there and around, until she winds down.  I love her energy.  But energy like this has to be managed carefully.  Last week, I let her off-leash to run, and she disappeared in an instant, racing toward the back of the van, then she made a tight turn, accelerating into the curve like Rockford, and collided at high speed with the very solid large Equalizer hitch on the back of the van.  She instantly dropped, crying, and couldn’t stand up.  I coddled, and rubbed her shoulder and elbow.  When she stopped crying, she was limping.  I took her with me to another already scheduled vet appointment in hopes of an x-ray, but the vet was double-booked for the entire afternoon.  At that point she wasn’t limping, so we left with no x-ray and she was placed on restricted activity for observation and recuperation.

Try explaining that to an energetic young girl who wants to be entertained – a lot – if she can’t be busy or running.  She noticed that someone left a gate open in the house, and the back door was open, with the person standing by the door, so she shot out for a mad race around the yard on Sunday.

I started dinner, then walked to the mailbox to find that today was “Newf Tide is in the mail!” day.  Being a youngster, she hasn’t quite caught onto the change that occurs, while the world settles down long enough for me to peruse the freshly printed issue, which was pulled out of its cover as I walked back to the house.  Maybe I didn’t realize that we could be having more fun.  Maybe I would like to play with a pop bottle.  How about a shoe?  What’s in your lap?  OK.  This will require more effort.  I’ve got it!  Maybe the roll of toilet paper will get her attention!  Geesh!  You’re no fun.  I think I need to take a nap.  (Good idea!)

She is now sprawled belly up.  If I don’t move suddenly, perhaps she will let me finish.

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