Saturday, July 16, 2011

Training revamp

"1 x 12 is 12. 2 X 12 is 24. 3 X 12 is 36. 4 X 12 well that would be, two plus two, four, plus another, shit, I mean two plus six, makes it 8 so 48. Pay attention. Motorcyclist. Check your speed. 5 X 12 is 60...." My hands are gripping the wheel and I'm cognizant of the wind tossing my wispies all over my face. I reach for my purse to grab my hippie headband to keep them out of my eyes but upon first feel can't find it and go back to "Pay attention" mode. This is my first day of my second six pack of predisone to kill off these unusual spots that keep appearing on my body, except in addition to the steroids, my doctor suggested an allergy medication. I took the allergy med last night, wishing it would knock me out and cure me of the gag-myself-at-night-cough that I seem to also be harboring in my body. Sadly, this was not the case.
12 AM: "Okay Orion, I know you wish I'd quit moving. The AC is in, I'll try to sleep now."
12:20: I wake up coughing so hard my lower back muscle distinctly whines in protest. "Sorry Orion to keep you up." I flop back to sleep.
1:20: Have to make it to the bathroom for water, seem to be attempting to cough up an important organ.
Needless to say the night was a rough one.
"If 5 X 12 was sixty, then 6 X 12 would be, 72... I wish I was a dolphin fish, dolphin fish, dolphin fish..." I am driving home from work because my neurons do not seem to be firing appropriately and distinctly feel drugged. Probably not the best state to be in when dealing with customer's broken iphones and personal data in a multibillion dollar company. The first four hours was similar to my car ride, "What am I doing? Oh right, liquid damage, liquid damage. How do I do this paperwork? Hum, think Molly."
I pull up to my apartment, place a quick call to Maggie to let her know I made it safely home. Everything is moving slowly, and I pause thinking what to do next before moving my legs to flip them outside the car door. Why would people deliberatly induce this? I wonder as I am firmly directing my brain to tell my feet go up stairs and get Orion.
Orion was fortunate enough to have had a nice morning run (I tried coffee and sang songs) and aimlessly wanders out of his crate, out the door, does his business and I return him to the inside. As I sit at the table, feeling 400 pounds my weight, I debate, act like I'm going back to work and put him in his crate so I can sleep? Take pity on his cute face and let him join me in the air conditioned room? I fall for the later, and one poop (for him) later, we tumble onto my bed. He barks 2 times and I tell him third time is his strike out and I am out cold.
Two hours later, sandpaper kisses wake me and I groggily toss my arm over his shoulders. He is so soft from the bath I gave him yesterday that I snuggle closer. Lick, lick. I cock an eye partway open, "Yes?"
Lick, lick.
He is being patient.
I lift my torso to push up position, resting on my elbows. Assess my brain capacity. Still slow. Damn. These drugs are kicking my butt. "How about we go potty then come back?" Up we go, out the door, do his thing, myself staring off into space, pony tail cockeyed on my head. Momentarily the thought crosses my head that I should snap out of this state, that if someone drove by they would think I was high as a kite, or drunk or mentally off. I weigh the effort it would take to have my eyes track normally. Na. It's just Orion. What do I care? I plunk down on the sidewalk dropping my head to my folded knees.
Back inside, I toss Orion a bone to entertain himself, stare at my ceiling.
"You could do some illustration work?" Too much effort. "You could clean your house?" Ug. "You could look for methods to make money?" Sigh. "Well you really shouldn't just lay here." Voice is getting slightly cranky. "It is a waste of time you know." Counter voice picks up, "No it's no, you took four hours of sick time. That means you are sick. That means go ahead and lie here and do nothing. Your mother would give you hell anyways if you tried to do something anyways. Well, after she guilt tripped you for going home in the first place. Read a book. That's low key." Agreed. I lift my still seemingly heavy self out of bed and grab the dog training for dummies book that belongs to a friend. Lately I've been Ceasar Milaning Orion in attempts to correct some behavior patterns. I have 50/50 luck. Something about having my karma be all serious when I say, "NO BARK!" in the car just hasn't seemed to come across no matter how much a person's energy has to do with this training stuff.
I flip open the lid, "Surviving Puppyhood". Perfect.
"Up until now, every time you called, Buddy probably willingly came to you. But now he may prefer to wander off an investigate..." Opening door last night, Orion bolts after a walking couple and their small dog. I go flying after him, boxers and half on tank top. So much for wait. I'm the crazy lady who has an ill behaved dog that probably scared the hell out of the humans and they're going to talk all night about how terrible dog owners are... "ORION COME!"
"During the period from 4 months to a year, the male puppy's hormones surge to four times his adult limit." Huh. Go figure. I look at Orion, "Poor guy. You just have crazy hormones going on in there huh?"
This is good.
I can read this book and find valid points to practice working on with Orion. We have been getting a little tired of our fifteen minute, Sit, Stay, Paw etc. and have been itching for something new.
"Alright Orion! Let's go give this a try," I say, chugging the last of my Pepsi in hopes it'll start to create bridges between my neurons.
Out we go to the back yard, pocket full of treats, my brain full of "Prey" verses "Pack" training ideas. "Come Orion!" he trots over, I hand him a treat. We wander the yard. "Come Orion!" He trots over, I hand him a treat. Now, let's practice this "when he's distracted and in prey mode.." I start to move to the front of the house where the cats like to hang out. If Orion had his way he'd be the cat-washer of the neighborhood. If the cat's had their way, Orion would poof up in smoke.
We circle around, I'm all ready with my "slight tug and tap on head".
No cats.
There are ALWAYS cats.
We practice in the front yard. "Sit!" He sits. "Stay!" He stays. This one continues to amaze me because his puppy chart said he'd stay at 7 months so of course I expect him to at four months and he's terrible at it, but suddenly it's true, at six months he suddenly has the patience to stay (even with 4X his hormones floating about).
I see a dog coming up the street. Orion's back it towards it. I begin to wrap the leash around my waist. I'm so ready.
Dog rattles collar. Orion's head whips around. Heart beat quickens.
"Orion COME!" I shout, quick tug of collar.
And I'm flying down the hill.

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