Gretel the Rottweiler
Jul. 2nd, 2007 06:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninevirtuesThursday night, we drove to DC and spent the night at R's brother's house. R's brother, sons, and girlfriend are not there (they are vacationing elsewhere), so we are fly-by dogsitters for Gretel, the rottweiler.
Now, I don't know about you, but I'm reluctant to enter a house with a rottweiler in it when the owners are not there.
R: "Aw, don't worry. She's a pussycat. She barks and runs away."
The only response he got was a look. (I'm sure, if you are now or have ever been in a relationship, you have seen this look.)
Fast forward to our arrival: We walk in; Gretel takes one look at us, and retreats under the kitchen table, barking loudly. (R was right.)
As we moved cautiously around the house, she retreated to the master bedroom and continued to bark. (Fine, we'll stay in the guest room then.)
The next morning she still wouldn't come out of the master bedroom. Okay, but really? She DOES need to go out. Drastic measures are clearly called for. A brief rummage downstairs reveals dog treats (Milk-bones, in the extra-super-huge size). I take two up the stairs and into the master bedroom.
"Gretel? Want a milk-bone?"
Definite interest.
I hand her the bone, and get a look from her that clearly says, "I'd eat this, but _you're standing here_."
I can take a hint. I leave the room, not before showing her that I have a second one, and then the crunching noises start.
I give that five minutes to sink in and... Hmm, I'll bet she knows the patio-door-opening noise and a few of the words most relevant to dogs. Let's give it the one-two-three punch, here.
I stand by the sliding glass patio door and...
"Gretel! Wanna go OUT? And I have a MILK BONE!"
I open the door and hear.... dog tags jingling, as the dog ventures down the stairs, heads for the door, pauses briefly to collect her milk-bone, and heads outside.... doing the dog-squat with one end of the milk-bone sticking out of her mouth. (I wish I had a picture.)
We also dog-sat on the return trip, so more later.
Now, I don't know about you, but I'm reluctant to enter a house with a rottweiler in it when the owners are not there.
R: "Aw, don't worry. She's a pussycat. She barks and runs away."
The only response he got was a look. (I'm sure, if you are now or have ever been in a relationship, you have seen this look.)
Fast forward to our arrival: We walk in; Gretel takes one look at us, and retreats under the kitchen table, barking loudly. (R was right.)
As we moved cautiously around the house, she retreated to the master bedroom and continued to bark. (Fine, we'll stay in the guest room then.)
The next morning she still wouldn't come out of the master bedroom. Okay, but really? She DOES need to go out. Drastic measures are clearly called for. A brief rummage downstairs reveals dog treats (Milk-bones, in the extra-super-huge size). I take two up the stairs and into the master bedroom.
"Gretel? Want a milk-bone?"
Definite interest.
I hand her the bone, and get a look from her that clearly says, "I'd eat this, but _you're standing here_."
I can take a hint. I leave the room, not before showing her that I have a second one, and then the crunching noises start.
I give that five minutes to sink in and... Hmm, I'll bet she knows the patio-door-opening noise and a few of the words most relevant to dogs. Let's give it the one-two-three punch, here.
I stand by the sliding glass patio door and...
"Gretel! Wanna go OUT? And I have a MILK BONE!"
I open the door and hear.... dog tags jingling, as the dog ventures down the stairs, heads for the door, pauses briefly to collect her milk-bone, and heads outside.... doing the dog-squat with one end of the milk-bone sticking out of her mouth. (I wish I had a picture.)
We also dog-sat on the return trip, so more later.
