dogs: he fits, he sits

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[ Remy, a big black dog, is standing in the back of the van, his hindlegs in a wide, shallow box, his forepaws up on a box next to the window. He’s looking out the window, tail wagging, ears tucked back. ]

So what with one thing & another, I wound up in the back of the van with Remy while Morgyn was in the drivers seat, & Remy had the MOST amazing time sniffing EVERYTHING & occasionally knocking over boxes of stuff we STILL need to donate (it all needs washed AGAIN, alas), & somewhere in the process I realized that there was the PERFECT size box for Remy to sits in, because I was pretty sure he would fits. So I set about making happen.

The first attempt he walked right through it, which was pretty damn good for a first try, so I praised him lavishly & let him look out the window for a while. He liked that VERY MUCH.

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[ He’s turned just a bit to look out to the right; his ears are on alert, and he’s straightened up his stance. ]

I have NO idea what was so awesome, but it was, apparently, awesome.

I let him run around more — he squeezed his way between his crate & the cat stroller to sit in the passenger seat, & was VERY smug about being able to Sit Like A Human & also lick Morgyn a couple times (they were unamused but tolerated it). When he came back, tail wagging, I figured he’d calmed down enough to give it another shot, & guess what happened!

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[ Remy is standing with three paws in the box, the fourth still in the air but looking to land next to the rest. His head is down, his tail up; I’m kneeling next to him, one hand on his leash, looking pleased and slightly surprised. ]


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[ Remy’s sitting in the box, head tilted up towards my hand, which is held above his head; his tail trails over the edge of the box on the other side. He’s visibly gnawing on my wrist, and I’m looking pretty surprised about it. ]

He fit! He sat!

I hadn’t brought any treats along, but getting my wrist in his mouth was plenty of reward for him. Worry not — he’s got the German shedder mouthiness, but also the lab soft mouth. He’s never in his life drawn blood, & I’m not exaggerating when I say that sometimes when he’s anxious, I simply shove my arm in his mouth. I don’t love it — I do NOT deal well with dog slobber — but it’s better than many of the alternatives, most of which involve screaming. Apparently what he got from the malamute side is double dewclaws & drama. Mostly drama.

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[ Remy’s lowered his head to face me directly; I’m holding his leash with one hand, petting him with the other, and leaning back just a bit in the hopes of avoiding that tongue. He looks appallingly happy. ]

& then more reward! He, like Loiosh, does love a love, & he got PLENTY of love for his achievement. For he is a very good boy, & when he fits, he sits!

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