I say on my homepage that I have a crazy wheaten terrier named Harley.
Here’s the outrageous proof.
If we call Goldie, our 9-year-old Golden Retriever, and he doesn’t come at once, Harley will either go get him for us, or she’ll do her nervous peeing. Disobedience apparently bothers her. Except for her own, that is.
She also does what she can to prevent Goldie from chewing on his foot, divebombing him with a slight growl, as if to say, “I’m going to tell Mom!”
One day recently, Leah was sitting on the couch, and she coughed. Harley jumped up on the couch, put one paw on Leah’s shoulder and looked deep into her eyes with concern.
This morning, our new pup, a Golden Retriever named Nikki, decided to splash the water in the dog bowl all over the kitchen. By all over, I mean ALL OVER. Harley came running upstairs to me at the computer, barking. In other words, tattling.
The other day, Nikki was–as pups are wont to do–chewing on a sock. Leah told her to “drop it,” and Nikki just sat there and looked at her. Harley got up, went and took the sock away from the pup, and brought it to Leah.
Harley is a goofy mutt! Well, she’s purebred, but mutt just seems to fit, somehow.
I have her picture up on the homepage to this blog, if you want to see her at her goofiest.