The normal routine is that I eventually strain every tendon in my throwing arm and issue the command "let's go home". At which point her dog brain registers 'lame master ready to quit', and we head home together, me on the bike pedalling for all I'm worth just to give her that last bit of exercise and her, efortlessly keeping up. Also part of the routine is that she carries whatever throw toy she has in her mouth from the last catch home with her, and drops it in the driveway.
It's a sweet gig and it totally works. I suspect Adam probably had this exact same thought in the Garden Of Eden. But as we all know, he got burned pretty bad. I think the main lesson of that biblical episode was that "Fellas, you're doomed for the duration of the world to be lulled into complacency about how swell your world is, while unbeknownst to you, the females in your life are particularly unsatisfied. This discrepancy does not bode well for you and I'm sorry, but there's very little you can do about it."
Apparently the lesson that has been served about a hundred triillion times since that initial enactment has been served onto me by a female in my life and then compounded by the fact that this particular female is also a canine eager to top it off with some dogly head games. I don't stand a chance.
Last night on the way home, she dropped her toy about 50 yards from the house. WTF, this has never happened. I went back and picked it up. But not before I gave her the business - needed to let her know this isn't how we do things and who the boss is. Point communicated, one time deal, then. (Complacent, stupid male am I.)
Swell. That was so much fun that tonight, she drops it about 3 blocks from home. She obviously knows what she's doing, because while I must turn around to go pick up the stupid-ass glowing frisbee from the middle of the street, she books home and waits for me. You know the old saying about how it's better to remain silent and let others think you a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt? I didn't say a thing when I got there.
|Offer you an apple, boss?|
She's obviously pushing my damn buttons. It's pointless for me to argue that I'm anything other than that archetypical complacent male, caught totally off-guard. I'm at a loss and that's why I'm reaching out . . . . If you think you understand even one ounce of female dog psychology, please shed some light on this situation. I feel unbelievably vulnerable, and my fear is that it's going to get worse before it gets better.