What does she expect?
What does she expect? That’s what I want to know. If you are outside in the garden with your beloved dog (that’s me, obviously), and you throw a ball off the garden then said beloved dog is bound to think ‘game on’ and go after the ball expecting you to start playing. It is not then acceptable to kneel down to pick stones out of the soil and put them in a pot. That is not part of the game. The game is to throw the ball and be ready when I bring it back. Every dog and human knows that, except it seems my mum. How could she be surprised when I stood barking at her to get up and play the game. It is not ok to tell me off in that circumstance. I was not the one in the wrong.
I didn’t want to hear a long-winded explanation of needing to clear the ground before she started planting vegetables with Aristotle. I wanted her to play ball with me, Wilma. Some days are frustrating.
Shadow confused
Mind you, I suppose I should be grateful that I’m not as confused as Shadow. Earlier yesterday she was asleep behind Mum’s chair. She woke up and panicked that she’d lost Mum. She went running around the house looking in every room, getting quite frantic. Mum was still sitting in the chair that had been right next to where Shadow got up from. It meant Mum had to get up and go to Shadow to reassure her that everything was fine and she didn’t need to panic. I wonder if I’ll be like that when I’m old.
Round two
Today, as long as it stays fine, will be round two of woman versus machine. Mum sat down with the mower and gave it a good talking to yesterday. She cleared its blockage and said she didn’t want any more trouble from it. Now we just need to find out if the mower takes any more notice of Mum than we do. I suspect I know the answer to that one!
Love
Wilma