Happy July

And Happy Canada Day to my readers in the Great White North (Hi, Tiff!)!

I am enjoying my first of July tremendously. The weather broke here in Washington, so we’re getting some lovely warm (but not sweltering) sunny days with nice cool breezes. Rio’s been living out on the back porch, which is a major shift from her spot of the last two weeks, poised directly over the air conditioning vents in our living room floor. Sometimes i think Rio missed her calling. She should have been a country dog who could lie all day on the porch and watch the world go by. She loves just hanging out outside. Sniffing the breeze, snapping at bumblebees, flopping her tail around hopefully whenever she hears the kids next door making noises.

The other day I took her down to the park so she could play in the creek. If there’s one thing Rio loves more in this world than peanut butter, it’s chasing after balls — or anything really — thrown into the creek. She is very much a representative of her breed (Duck Tolling Retriever). Water and retrieving are her vocation and her passion. She actually pulls a tempter tantrum when playtime is over, complete with whining and stamping of her foot (we’re trying to train her out of that). So anyway, we met some friends down by the creek. When we arrived, one of our friends had lost a flip flop in the water, and it had floated out to a deep part and gotten caught in an eddie.

Well, we decided Rio was the best candidate to go get it for us. But poor Rio didn’t know what to get, and it didn’t help that the kids down at the creek were all shouting commands at her. She was treading water out there and swimming in circles, getting very confused as I kept trying to get her attention. It’s really tough to explain to children sometimes that dogs do best when there is one person giving them a command ONE time, rather than half a dozen kids crying her name. She kept swimming into the stream and grabbing at random sticks or just looking around in confusion.

One of the kids threw a stick so it landed right next to the flip flop and, relieved that she had an identifiable goal in mind, Rio beelined for it. Then, of course, she received the stick and totally ignored the flip flop. Oops. So I suggested we throw a rock or something that would sink next to the flip flop. But the flip flop’s owner, eleven years old, had an even better idea. She thought she’d pretend to throw the other flip flop.

Except… Rio’s no fool. She could plainly see that the flip flop was still in the girl’s hand, and she wasn’t about to be teased. So I took the second flip flop, pretended to throw it, then quickly hid it, all sleight-of-hand style. Off Rio went, and retrieved the lost flop! I felt like the owner of Lassie. All the kids were cheering, the girl’s mother gave Rio a cookie, and Rio could not for the life of her figure out why everyone was so impressed.

This didn’t stop her from enjoying her cookie.

Now of course, I have a new concern. Rio has never been a shoe-eater. Chapsticks, yes, especially if they are mentholated. In fact, I can’t even leave my purse on the floor or she’ll find my chapstick inside it. And don’t get me started on gum. (It’s really scary actually, since Xylitol is poisonous to dogs.) But she’s never even had a shoe in her mouth before this flip flop episode. I hope we haven’t set her down a dark path, especially given the way I leave my shoes all over the floor.

Rio’s got a big weekend ahead of her. We’re dogsitting her friend Cody, who is a golden doodle (shouldn’t they by rights be called golden roodles or goldenoodles?), and also, in a burst of doggie luck, her uncle Harry, my parents’ Old English, is coming to visit as well. She’ll be in heaven, I’m sure.

In non-doggie news, my garden is doing fabulously. I’ve picked about a pint of cherry tomatoes already, and I see abunch of the normal sized ones on the vines as well. I have several squashes growing, a few baby zucchinis, and even a cucumber, though it’s very strange looking, mroe like a plum. I have a ton of little jalapenos, a mexibell pepper, and two giant poblanos. I have a small forest of basil, though my neighbor just came by with a bunch of basil for me that puts mine to shame, as well as some lovely long stalks of rosemary. The dough for my rosemary bread is rising on the counter as we speak. It smells phenomenal.

In actual writing news, I’m nearing the home stretch in my draft, and I got a first read on a large chunk that’s making me feel pretty good that I’m on the right track.

My plans for the weekend are pretty chill — my parents will be in town, and we’re going to do a big crab feast for the fourth. Mmmmm, crabs.

What are you up to this lovely summer day?