Relative Something

In February, our rescued shepherd mix, Asher, turned 2 years old. That is commonly considered the beginning of the end of the puppy phase for many large breed dogs. Anecdotally, I can report we are noticing an increase in more mature behavior from Asher, however, that hasn’t eliminated his moments of wild or chaotic romping.

Last night, Asher bolted from Cyndie, disappearing into the darkness when she tried to take him out for one last pee before bed. Luckily, she found him shortly after, down in the trees near the labyrinth. I guess we should take it as promising progress that he didn’t instantly take off for the neighbor’s property.

The other day, he sat down on a walk with me and surveyed the paddocks and fields for a long time. I sat down with him. It felt like a version of himself that was beyond the puppy phase.

It occurs to me that someday I might miss his puppy energy so I should cherish his moments of chaos while he still has it in him. I never seem able to keep that perspective when tripping on the bedroom rug he has whirled into a pile of wrinkles when trying to hump his dog bed sideways on its end.

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