Watermelon and more summer delights

I inherited half a watermelon this weekend. It turns out that Chico loves watermelon. The red part, the white part, the green part; but the red part is best.

This summer, Chico can hang out in the front yard while I’m in the house. I prop the door open and he lies in the yard and watches the world go by. He ignores cars, but I do have to call him back when walkers or joggers come by – he still thinks it’s his road and in summer when there are a lot more strangers passing by.

The fields by the house got mowed last weekend and, interestingly, he was completely relaxed about the tractors. The lawn tractor that M uses to mow and plow, that makes Chico crazy, but the big tractors were no problem at all.

Tractor? What tractor?

Last Saturday, on a day with perfect weather, we attended a large wedding celebration. It was cocktails in the house followed by a lovely picnic on the lawn. Chico was very well behaved. Only one outburst of barking, early in the event. He didn’t touch the appetizers arrayed on low tables (though he did cruise the floor for dropped tidbits) or beg treats from strangers. At dinner, he did lick some plates abandoned on the ground. It’s quite possible that the plates weren’t actually abandoned until Chico licked them, but I put him back on the leash and put a stop to that.

The invitations said “champagne is welcome, as is fancy dress” so I broke my no-bandanas rule and put my favorite scarf around Chico’s neck for the event. Photo by Juno.

There was a little girl at the party who we’d also met on the Farmers Market that morning. She loves dogs and I discovered that if I gave positioned Chico near this girl and supplied a steady stream of treats, he could be brave enough to let her pet him. I think they both profited from the experience.

On Friday night, I took Chico to a pig and chicken roast. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He prospected under the table where we sat, he looked under the buffet line, he had the best time. When we went to the car to leave, he wouldn’t get in. That usually means he has to poop, so I took him to the woods. Nope. That wasn’t it. He wanted to go to the area where they were cooking the meat. He, in fact, refused to get in the car, lying down and rolling onto his back. I had to pick him up and put him in the car.

On the whole, this summer has provided some wonderful socializing opportunities and Chico has risen to the various occasions. Now, if I could change his mind about the big dog staying on our road for a couple weeks….

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