Romantic Robot » Winston

Mark — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 12:19:48 +0000

Lying in a field surrounded by tall grass and butterflies while the dog romps around.

Playing hard

Mark — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 00:15:52 +0000

Fairly nasty incident last Friday involving Winston’s teeth, my hand, blood and a still sore hand. I posted at a forum before seeking further help and spent well over an hour earlier talking to a very nice lady who was a dog behaviourist. The super-brief version: Winston wants the top job. The super-polite reply: No. Lots of talk about the why, the how, the why, where etc. The main upshot is that the others in the house blank him for a week. He simply does not exist. Jacq will find that very very difficult. But I am the giver of food, the taker-away of food, I praise, I command, I will be obeyed and I am Number #1 and he will be left in not the slightest doubt of this. It’s all good behavioural stuff and it starts tomorrow morning.
It’s a PITA for me because I need to be downstairs more than normal so instead of the monitors I’ll be on the laptop. No biggie, but I’ll have to work a little slower. That alone will annoy me. But then if we want W to learn then it has to be done. He’s a big dog and if he bites again it’ll be the last time. And my hand is still sore.

Bruised

Mark — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 23:03:53 +0000

I’m out with Winston for the usual evening walk. The last mile or so is next to a road that connects our village to the one next. It is bounded by a hedge on one side and trees on the other. The narrow path is on the left side with the trees so we are walking with the flow of traffic. It’s gone 9pm so it’s dark.
Winston sees someone up ahead and I hear them. As I look up, they are lit by the headlights of a car coming from behind. Standing still, I turn into the trees. My left hand – holding the extending dog lead – goes to my behind my left side. My right hand holds Winston’s collar. All perfectly normal, done this a hundred times. And then 3 things happen: I feel a solid pain where the extending lead whacks into my butt, the extending lead flies from my hand, extends then clatters to the ground and that car goes past.
The couple walking toward me say nothing as they pass other than to remark how big Winston is. I’m still finding the lead and holding on to Winston and boy does it hurt. Wing mirror? No – too far away from the road. Slapping? Possibly. Strange? Certainly is.