Chewy is a scruffy little cream colored terrier, head placed on the sofa, looking as loyal as possible at me and my bowl of steamed purple carrots, of which he has already been offered a sample and declined. Why do they continue to look at you pleadingly? Can they not smell that there is only more of the same in the bowl? Ah, well.
Point to point walking was mostly uneventful, minus the occasional tiny barely audible "erp!" as he hit the end of the line when bolting after a squirrel. He really likes squirrels and birds, and maybe dogs? We stood at one point while a pair of Italian Greyhounds passed, it seemed like they were going to pass safely until one of the dogs changed his mind and went back to approach Chewy (on a retractable lead) and Chewy went straight for him, but I caught the leash and moved off before he made contact. I prefer Catfish's puppy-minded openness about his intentions, plenty of body language and whining about wanting to greet a dog vs hard stare stiff posture and then rocketing towards them (to greet? I think not) I felt a little disappointed to be training a little dog (not to mention the very real pain in the ass of having to reach that far down for placing them) but it looks like he'll give me plenty to think about. A big change around the house, first day here and he is calmly curled up on the sofa with me vs Catfish constantly going from person to person asking for pets, whining, being a puppy, being a goofball. Though make no mistake, I love Catfish dearly and miss his enthusiasm for life, silly happy face, pride in his work. I feel almost awkward around Chewy, bringing him home and first thing giving him a bath: do we know each other well enough for me to take such liberties? I guess it's different because he is a mature adult dog, insecure in his new surroundings, whereas Catfish was just excited to explore a new place and play with new people. It's a completely different relationship to treat dogs as equals and with respect rather than patronize them, adds more depth.