Imagine, if you will, a sweet, loveable puppy (ignore for the moment the wet paws that just came out of the water bowl and left prints on my slacks, necessitating another change of clothes, and the kitchen floor that will have to be mopped again). She is so helpful, so willing to please. And, believe it or not, devious.
Are you aware a person should not use the bathroom without close supervision by a GSD? Clearly, I have been sadly neglected in the past. But Freki is correcting this lack in my life. Such a sweet girl.
And, did you know vacuuming and mopping must be attended by a brave, selfless puppy who will throw herself bodily at the dangerous objects, threatening them with instant destruction if they attempt to harm her owner? (Yes, hiding in the tub is a thing of the past) I had no idea these every day cleaning tools were so dangerous. Many thanks to my brave girl.
She is also quite the antidote for memory loss. I must confess to the occasional 'why am I in this room?' lapse, but I am quickly tightening those brain muscles and powers of observation, complements of Freki, the Ninja Dog.
At any given moment, Freki will be at the very least in my peripheral vision, playing with an approved toy (meaning, one we gave her, not one she chose for herself), pouncing on Ben, or attempting to annoy Dixie. Then, without warning, she becomes- Ninja Dog.
On silent, padded feet, she slips away- never mind she sounded like 10 puppies only moments earlier. Ears now tuned to the sudden absence of sound, I whirl, confirming my suspicion. Ninja Dog has left the room. In an instant I catalogue the contents of the room and discover-- something is missing.
Is it a house shoe (memo- check closet doors) or a towel from the stack of laundry on its way to the washer? A quick check finds Freki's bed piled with goodies. One of dad's house shoes (though she can carry both at once), a hand towel, one of my gardening shoes and a pine cone. When did that come into the house????
Ninja Dog has struck again.