Oh, Olive...

             Olive is 6 months old. She has reached the age where you often see in the paper:

FOR SALE:

6 mo. old puppy, needs room to roam, raised with kids, house-trained, comes with dog house, dishes, leash and toys. Purebred, asking $XXX

Which being interpreted means:

6 mo. old puppy (seems longer than that),

needs room to roam (won't come when called, and has wrecked our yard already),

raised with kids (and they suffered only minor injuries thus far)

house-trained (as long as we are),

comes with dog house, dishes, leash and toys (we want to forget this ever happened),

Purebred, asking $XXX (we dropped a chunk o' change on this and we want to get some of it back).

(But on the other hand if you just take the dog, it will be the end of the damages...)

Now, don't worry...I am not proposing the sale or excommunication of the inimitable Olive Oyl Honcoop...Not at all! The difference for us is that we knew this would happen. We expected these days of weeping and gnashing of teeth -- and I don't mean Olive's tears or teeth!

But I have to say, it does get wearisome sometimes.

Of late, Olive has learned that often when you "COME", the good times end. You may find yourself inside, instead of outside, or in the crate, instead of out of it. Gram might pick you up, when you would rather be fighting someone, or hunting something. Olive is not stupid, unfortunately, so she has imposed her own moratorium on "COMING".

She will not. period. end of sentence.

This tends to be problematic...VERY problematic, and now coupled with her latest obsession, it has become intolerable.

I believe I hear Olive snort-laughing right now...{insert teeth gnashing!}

Her latest obsession is chasing barn swallows around the farm...You know, barn swallows -- those kamikaze birds that love to swoop just past your head, then circle around and do it again...And they LOVE Olive...she's a dream come true because she takes the bait, and follows them wherever they may go...around the back yard, figure eight to the front yard, take an extra loop out over the road...

YES! THE ROAD...Those dastardly little birds are trying to kill my grand-pup!!

And my efforts to save her have provided the neighbors and passers-by not a little entertainment.

The other day, Olive forced her way out into the yard as I tried to block the back door. She immediately zoomed off in pursuit of a swallow, and I ran after her, yelling the futile command: "OLIVE, COME!"

It was as if I didn't exist.

My next tactic was to get between her and the road, so I headed to the side yard, where I frantically tried to head her off...Considering that I was already winded just from yelling, "OLIVE, COME!", it was not the most effective tactic...and I wouldn't win any awards for agility either.

Fortunately, the birds were a bit wary of me and changed course, away from the road...But only momentarily, and then the swooping fiends made the loop out into traffic, as did Olive...

My heart in my throat (and my stomach too, come to think of it, and my lungs were probably squished up there somewhere as well)...I ran to the road waving at a guy in a pick-up truck, wildly motioning at the black and white blur that was Olive. He indicated that he saw my trouble, and slowed down...The bird and Olive completed their sweep out over the road and headed back into the yard. I gratefully waved my relieved thanks to the driver, and turned back just in time to see Olive headed roadward AGAIN...

More frantic motioning and wild waving, and the man in the pick-up came through once more, waiting as Olive and the bird made the swoop back into the yard...Though he was obviously laughing heartily at the scene...

As was my husband who, during this little escapade, was driving back and forth with the tractor and mower. He had the good sense to only smile at me, but I know that when I couldn't see, he was laughing heartily too...{insert gnashing, gnashing of teeth}

And there was still more to laugh about...Though Olive had abandoned her bird-chasing, and was flopped, huffing, on the ground, the moratorium on "COME" was still in place. I did my best to wheedle and cajole -- Daisie even tried to help -- but Olive.would.not.come! She would sidle up close to us, but as soon as I lunged after her, all I caught was a fistful of air...She's so stinkin' fast, and slippery little!

{insert near weeping from frustration}

Finally, I sought help...The chuckling Farmer came by in the tractor one more time and saw his wife, hands on hips, nostrils flaring, wild-eyed, mouthing: "HELP ME!"

And he, knowing what's good for him, did.

Olive would not come to him either, but she adores him and when he went into the house, she figured good things were going to happen there, and she went in.

And she hasn't been out since.

Nor will she be, until the moratorium on "COME" has ended...

Except on the leash, because I am well house-trained.