Central Utah. I am adjusting to some pleasant surprises from the 20 pound cockapoo/miniature poodle that I adopted in February of this year. I treat her as my sweet little girl, but in fact she is quite rugged. Especially her feet.
She is going through a 'mid-life career change' and needs to learn about things she didn't experience in her former life in a Phoenix apartment. She loves to run to the edge of cliffs and to scare me into a near heart attack.
It is hard for a human to look at things from a dog's point of view. After all, they are closer to the ground, have four paws on the dirt, and have sharp toenails.
Let's zoom out on that last picture:
At some point I have to stop being so over-protective of Q.t.Ļ and trust in animal instincts.
But that is tough when you visit places with sheer vertical drops of several hundred feet!
My goodness, around my little dog I have become as sentimental and soft-headed as a doting grandpa. But what a service the little beast provides for me: she reminds me of what it was like to be a child who has found a ten foot high pile of dirt, perhaps near some construction. The child can spend hours playing with it and thinking of nothing else while doing so.
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