w0rdinista
'Nista's Nest
The Bunneh's Warren: a wee tiny corner of the internets devoted to fandom and other delightfully frivolous pursuits. Current avatar courtesy of the lovely aelwen, commissioned by the also-lovely tarysande.
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My ADHD swings wildly between:
"I should PROBABLY fold this pile of laundry consisting of four separate loads (washed last week) before this week's laundry starts coming out of the dryer. I mean, I probably ended up washing that one load three times..."
And:
"I have cleaned out my closet and dresser drawers, organized what I'm keeping, and have already dropped off everything I'm not keeping to the local friends-of-the-animal-shelter thrift shop."
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State of the doggos
So, it looks like one of my last posts referencing real-life was back when it was Parker's first agility trial.
So much has happened since then.
I quit the magazine this past November. (Burnout. So much burnout.)
My geriatric girl, Sydney, passed away in Sept 2022, at 16 years and 4 months of age. We still miss her.
Parker continues to be amazing in the agility ring. A cluster seizure in 2022 meant he had to go on phenobarbital, which took him about six months to acclimate to. We're going through a bit of a rough patch with his seizures and working with his neuro vet to figure out how best to move forward.
Seeker turned 9 in April but you wouldn't know it.
We brought home a new puppy, Kona, in October. He's an Aussie. He looks like he's going to be a big boy; at 10 months old, he's already bigger than Seeker. We've affectionately nicknamed him "Chonk." (We suspect Sydney has been giving him tips from beyond the veil. He's naughty in the very same way she was. <3)
I'm still doing agility, but am taking a break from things while we figure out Parker's neurological situation.
There's been other stuff, but since I mostly talked about my dogs here, it makes sense to do a dog update first.
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It's been 87 years.....
I don't even know how long it's been since I've logged in.
We're going to try this again. Gently.
Verrrry gently.
This return is, as so many things are, @tarysande's fault.
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I can only read “dogs” and only see anything in one other. I see nothing in any other.
#10/10 but the first one just about gave me a headache#that was harder than expected#hello eyestrain my old friend
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Ollie and Cassandra for the ship meme?
So I started this yesterday.
And we went to print yesterday.
And things did not go smoothly, which is why I’m answering this TODAY.
who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter
You know, this one’s interesting because my initial thought was that OBVIOUSLY Cass is the hunter because OBVIOUSLY.
And then I thought about it a moment longer.
And I think Cass is actually the werewolf, because I think having something so entirely beyond her control would infuriate her no end. (Whereas I think a werewolf Ollie would sort of... learn to live with it in his own way?) So yes, Cass is the werewolf who 100% rejects that facet of herself, and lives a life entirely composed of various ways in which she imposes self-control and self-discipline over everything she does. And not only is she a werewolf—she is also hunting the one that infected her, because she's got some revenge she wants to mete out, believe you me.
And Ollie is the hunter searching for the werewolf that killed his sister, grieving because she was his favorite sibling and ridden with survivor guilt because he’s certain he could have prevented the attack somehow.
Little do they know, the werewolf that infected Cass is the same one that killed Ollie’s sister.
who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman
Cassandra is the mer who has recently discovered that she's a lot closer to inheriting the kingdom's throne than she'd ever thought—a prospect that displeases her, as she is accustomed to a far more martial life of service and protection, as the personal knight to the mer-kingdom's high priestess. She has no desire to step into a softer life of diplomacy. The high priestess gently suggests Cassandra take a short sabbatical, so she may do a little soul-searching.
Ollie is a treasure hunter who identifies crash sites and dives to recover items of monetary and historical value. Imagine his surprise when his extremely expensive and accurate equipment identifies an ages-lost wreck, which is in fact the sacred place where one cranky warrior mermaid is taking her sabbatical.
who’s the witch and who’s the familiar
You know, this one gave me a little trouble. There's kind of a weird power imbalance at work with this relationship that I wasn't sure would apply to Ollie and Cass.
But then I started to think about a shapeshifting Ollie who spends most of his time as a cat and vanishes for days at a time—coming back usually with some sort of injury.
To which @tarysande said: "Cat returns power imbalance. Because cat."
Cassandra reluctantly inherited the slightly-salty Ollie, who's been part of the family for generations.
As far as Cassandra knows—as far as she's ever seen—Ollie is your standard, run of the mill, witch's cat. Because he's never given anyone any idea that he's anything else. And Ollie is excellent at keeping secrets.
Until, at least, one night while he's out galivanting, he finds himself in more of a fight than he expected—struggling to maintain his shape, he crawls through the cat-door and passes out on the kitchen floor.
It's not a cat Cassandra finds the next morning.
who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict
Ollie's definitely the barista—and coffee-shop owner, who has sunk every last penny he had into his little hole-in-the-wall coffee-shop. The place isn't much to look at, but it features locally-roasted beans and easily the best latte in a five-block radius. Plus the baked goods they offer come from his sister Evie, who works some serious magic in the kitchen. (See what I did there?)
Cassandra is one of the regulars who can be found waiting for the doors to open at 7am sharp—and is the first to point out if it's 7:02. Neither man nor beast dare get in the way of Cassandra's triple espresso Americano, no milk, no sugar, extra hot.
She doesn't quite know what to do the first time Ollie drops one of Evie's pain au chocolat into a bag and hands it to her. She tries to tell him he's made a mistake.
"I'm just saying, if you're going to have the same boring order, day after day after day, the least you could do is humor me and spruce it up a little."
who’s the professor and who’s the TA
Cassandra is an overachieving perfectionist with a double-major and too many credit hours on her plate, but she needs the work-study to make ends meet.
And Ollie is the professor who most everybody (Cass included) assumes is a slacker, who frequently needs to be reminded it's rude to prop his feet on his desk. There are action figures placed strategically throughout his (tiny) office.
He didn't get tenure for nothin', though—he's just doing his damnedest to avoid getting promoted to Department Chair. He likes teaching and doesn't want to lose that. Of course, the fact that he enjoys teaching means there's very little for Cass to do, which annoys her. And the fact that it annoys her baffles him, because who wouldn't want a little free time to themselves?
who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)
Well… canonically, Cass is both. XD
who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent
When Ollie's sister and her husband were killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver, there hadn't been any question his niece would come to him. The learning curve had been steep, sure, but he was nothing if not adaptable. He learned to soothe nightmares and braid hair; he learned the names of stuffed animals; he learned to keep his sister's daughter well-stocked in art supplies; he learned the exact shade of teal that was her favorite before they painted her bedroom over a weekend.
What he most absolutely was completely not prepared for was his first parent-teacher conference, and it was his humble (and very, very private) opinion Ms. Pentaghast would have been far better suited to slaying dragons than teaching third grade.
She was, in a word, terrifying.
who’s the writer and who’s the editor
Cassandra writes painstakingly accurate historical romantic fiction. Oliver has handled all of her books so far, and she trusts his judgment— she also trusts him to point out every one of her comma splices.
They communicate via email, text, and phone calls; the working relationship is a good one. And then, while on a book tour, they meet up for coffee—her treat, as a thanks for all of his help.
They are neither of them what the other expected.
When Cass starts feeling inspired to begin writing her next series, she's mortified to discover her newest fictional hero bears more than a passing resemblance to her editor and friend. So she writes it under a pseudonym and finds herself a new editor. Somebody named Tethras who's supposed to be good.
What could go wrong?
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send me a ship
and i’ll tell you…
who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter
who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman
who’s the witch and who’s the familiar
who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict
who’s the professor and who’s the TA
who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)
who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent
who’s the writer and who’s the editor
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Soooooooooo.
Parker’s first agility trial was last weekend.
My sweet little red boy blew me away.
Like, okay. Here’s the thing with competing at agility trials: the energy there is off the freaking charts. There are so many dogs with so many different temperaments and so many different energy levels and experience levels and like...
It’s a lot to process.
For example, when Seeker was competing at the Novice level, he liked to visit the judge and say hi. Or the leash-runners. Or the jump-setters. Basically, if it was anyone’s job to sit in the ring? Seeker visited them. He’s a high energy dog who, in competition situations, becomes an even higher energy dog.
Parker is very different. I mean, I knew that already, but I saw it demonstrated to me in a way that allows me to understand better.
When it was our turn to run (and the hosting club and venue had lots of COVID guidelines and regs and we followed them all to the letter because not doing so meant getting ejected from the event), we walked from our crating area to where we were supposed to wait. And Parker walked with me.
WITH ME. He didn’t pull my arm out of the socket. He walked politely by my side like the mild-mannered photographer of the Daily Bugle he’s named for.
When we got to the ring, he sat in a perfect heel position. He looked around a little, but he stayed exactly where planted his butt. (His brother Does Not Do This.)
When it was our turn to enter the ring, he walked in like he’d done it a hundred thousand times. (And, you know, I’m not embarrassed to admit I was nervous. Young dog. Frequently skittish. First trial.)
But let me tell you. When I rested my hand on the back of his neck to unclip his leash, I felt no tension. And when he looked up at me, I saw soft, happy eyes and a relaxed mouth, open in the sweetest doggy smile I’d ever seen.
And I thought to myself, Oh. Oh, everything is going to be just fine.
And it was.
That first time in the ring was amazing and I will never forget it. We didn’t qualify, but that doesn’t matter because it was hands down the best first-time-in-the-ring-with-a-Novice-dog experience I have ever had.
But the second and third time in the ring?
Oh, he was flawless. And we qualified. And got first place.
And he did it calmly, happily, and confidently.
My heart is so full, guys.
#life with 'nista#'nista does agility#and i know this post is about parker#which should not diminish seeker at all#because he was brilliant#but the baby dog with the baggage#was kind of a wild card#and i did not know how it would shake out
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I have been complaining rather a lot about work, so I am going to talk about one thing that has me incredibly, fantastically happy right now.
Parker is competing in his first AKC agility trial this weekend.
Let me tell you why this makes me so happy.
At 4 months old--a mere sixteen weeks on this earth, Parker broke his leg. Badly (it went through the growth plate). He needed surgery to repair it, and the surgeon placed three small pins in the bone--small enough that his bones would grow over the pins. Two weeks in a plaster cast, followed by six weeks on crate rest. After his follow up, the vet put him on another four weeks of crate rest. Four weeks later... another four weeks of restricted activity (though not formally crate rest, I had to be vigilant with keeping him confined, or he would run around the house like a maniac, playing with Seeker.
That’s about sixteen weeks of crate rest/restricted activity, all told.
Half his life, to that point.
Now, I am incredibly fortunate because I know a lot of lovely dog people, and one of Parker’s honorary auntie’s sent him a snuffle mat to he could work his brain a little while confined. Another auntie loaned me about five or six puzzle dog toys. The final four weeks of restricted activity, the surgeon cleared us to do some low-impact obedience work. So, while it did suck a lot, things did not suck quite as badly as they could have, otherwise.
Sometime during his convalescence, I started noticing Parker had become fearful of certain things. There wasn’t a lot of rhyme or reason to it--sometimes he was afraid of things that moved suddenly, sometimes was afraid of things that made noise, but nothing really consistent enough for me to say it was sound or motion-based. The best I could figure, if it was something he knew should move/make noise, he was fine with it. If it was something he did not think should move/make noise, he was Decidedly Not Fine. (A towel falling off the counter. The noise paper makes when it rustles. Stuff like that.)
About eight weeks in, which would put things around February 2019, I started bringing Parker to a canine physical therapist down in Ft. Lauderdale (about 2.5 hours from where I live). She gave us a list of exercises, and over the course of the next eight weeks, we saw her three times. The third visit was in August, 2018, which was when she gave him a clean bill of health to pursue any activity we wanted.
At that point Parker was enrolled in a basic manners/impulse control puppy class. The instructor (a woman I was already taking agility classes with for Seeker) said she’d be offering an agility foundation class geared towards puppies. I was a little concerned, given his fear issues, but I had a long conversation with an agility friend--and a friend of hers, who I did not know very well, but who had been training dogs for literally decades. And this friend of hers told me that of all the sports he’d trained in over the years (obedience, field testing, nose work, tracking, agility--you name it), nothing built a dog’s confidence the way agility did.
I won’t say I was sufficiently bolstered, but... I was a little bolstered. I signed Parker up for the class. This was around September 2018.
Parker’s opinion of agility equipment ran from “deeply suspicious” to “Hell no, I’m out.” Jumps were fine, until he tried to duck under a jump bar (instead of jumping over it) and his luxurious tail caught the bar and sent it falling... right onto his butt. The teeter totter? AHAHAHAHA. Forget it. FOR. GET. IT.
But my instructor, who we will call S, was adamant: small steps, highly rewarded. (She also called me out a number of times for wanting to protect Parker from failure, which... was not helping him.)
Gradually, Parker got less suspicious of certain piece of equipment. The tunnels. The A-frame. The dog-walk.
Gradually he stopped running around jumps, and started taking them.
The teeter-totter took longest: after a year he started taking the obstacle without any assist/guiding equipment. It’s taken another six months for him to take the obstacle without the promise of food or a toy.
Eighteen months of work.
At home, I started noticing other areas where Parker was less skittish. I started working towards getting him used to being dried with my force dryer after a bath. We worked towards using a nail grinder on his claws, instead of a clipper. He’s still not sure of the dryer, but he lies across my lap like he’s having a spa day when it’s time to do his nails. Things still surprise him, and he’s still unsure now and then, but his confidence has been growing in leaps and bounds.
Around January, 2020, I decided I’d try trialing with him. That was a decision I’d been wrestling with for a while--I won’t go into detail about what finally pushed me to decide in favor of competing with him (another story for another time, maybe), but suffice to say I was persuaded. I made plans to enter Parker in a local trial to be held in April.
Aaaaand then COVID happened.
Next weekend, Parker will run in his very first AKC agility trial. It has been such a long--and at times, uncertain--road with this little guy. I am so incredibly proud of how far he’s come. And, hey, we may come home with a ribbon, or we may not. This really is just about the journey. <3
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Things that happened today:
Art Director (AD) agreed with me about the quality of the now-former-writer’s piece.
AD suggested we confer with previous editor, as she has been doing the job longer than either of us have.
Previous editor... saw absofuckinglutely nothing wrong with the piece.
‘Nista learned many things, none of them flattering, about the previous editor’s taste and preferences.
Piece is being run “as written,” and if I have my way, the now-former-writer will regret ever using those words with me, because I am spiteful AF, and, oh, I am sticking to the absolute letter of the law. I have not changed a single word of text. Not a single excessive dialogue tag. Not a single over-repetition. Not a single awkwardly phrased sentence. (It’s a double-edged sword, being given exactly what you’ve asked for.)
It is what she said when she threw down her ultimatum, after all. “As written.” In bold text, too.
And I have prepared my response, should anyone complain about the piece. Which... I rather expect they will.
It’s a strange position to be in. A friend familiar with the situation said that I was being a good person and doing the decent thing. But I think if I have any footing on any sort of high-road, it is only a technicality.
I am not acquiescing to be kind.
(She was too phenomenally rude to me for me to be okay with giving her what she wants as a gesture of kindness.)
#life with 'nista#'nista works#be careful what you demand of your editor#and maybe don't make demands#after accusing her of dishonesty#you don't put yourself in the best bargaining position
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Had a discussion with my Art Director and I’ve decided to let former-writer’s crappy piece be her swan song. Because, believe you me, it’ll be a cold day before I accept anything of hers.
I’m not happy about running it, but it’s also easily the worst thing she’s written, was absolutely not worth burning her bridges over, and now it’s gonna be immortalized in print.
That... almost has the ring of poetry to it.
I mean, I hate that perfectly good printing space is going to something so... bad, but. Well. Moral of the story: be careful for what you wish for.
The lovely Art Director and I are planning to meet up on Zoom with wine once the dust settles to discuss next year’s issues, ideas for articles, features, columns, etc.
#life with 'nista#'nista works#and is sometimes spiteful#considering running a disclaimer in my editorial#don't look at me i tried to edit the perishing thing#and do my JOB thankyouvmuch#but heaven forefend i alter her blessed words#i wonder if i can fix her misused quotation marks#is that allowed?
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Well, no new/unpleasant side effects from new ADHD med, which is fantastic. I have also taken a critical eye to my email correspondence with my now-former writer, and am satisfied that I was not actually the bitch she thought I was.
Unfortunately, her ultimatum was that I would either run her piece “as written” or she would withdraw all permission to use any of her photography or writing in the future. Of course, she delivered the ultimatum literally the day AFTER I performed copy edits and submitted it to my art director for placement in the rough copy. And it is not “as written.”
So. I have more decisions to make. However, I feel a lot more capable about making them, which is... a definite improvement.
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Well, my writer apparently thought that when I asked her if she wanted to work towards being a better writer, it was code for “You suck and I hate you” and she resigned, closing her email with--
--wait for it--
--another ultimatum.
I’m going to bed. Fuck this day.
Tomorrow I start new ADHD meds, so... hopefully that will help. (Or I’ll spend the day experiencing new and exciting side effects. WHO KNOWS?)
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So... without going into too much (probably boring) detail, I think I am the first person to hold this managing editor position who has... actually had editing experience. (Very small magazine, circulation of less than 2k. Basically a good part-time gig for someone who knows a little about grammar/punctuation and has organizational skills.) In fact, the woman who was the editor before me chose me for the job because I was more qualified than she was when she took the post. (I was lacking in other areas, but my learning curve has been steep since May.)
So, one of my columnists has been writing for this magazine since the mid-90s. She is very knowledgeable when it comes to her field, and her writing is... decent, but for some common problems (passive voice and punctuation, mostly). I don’t usually need to do more than some basic copyediting for her.
Then, in preparation for our Nov/Dec issue, she told me she’d like to write something lighter--an adaptation of one of Aesop’s fables. I told her it sounded great and I looked forward to reading it.
It was... not good. There were many areas in which it was not good, so we’ll just leave it at “not good.”
I had an idea how to make it better, but it was a pretty huge edit, so I wanted to run it by her first.
Her reply: “I appreciate your input, but I’d rather run it as written.”
So we go back and forth a bit, and finally she comes at me with a... pretty indignant email, telling me about her history with the magazine, and that I am the third editor she has written under, and the first one to have such a problem with something she’s written, I am “overthinking” her piece and taking it “too seriously,” and if I don’t want to run her piece as-is, then she would prefer I not run it at all.
Okay, so like... picture two alpha bitches circling each other in a barnyard, and you pretty much will sum up how I feel about the whole situation. (Hint: I’m the newer, younger, prettier alpha bitch.)
So. First, and this has been true of me since I was a wee thing: I respond ABYSMALLY to ultimatums.
A. BYS. MAL. LY. Ask my mom. (In fact, I told my mom about it, and she made the most pained face imaginable.)
You want me to like you? At all? Do not hit me with an ultimatum. Because I will--every damn time--I will do the thing you think I won’t dare do. (Hi there, ADHD impulse control problems.) It does not matter how deeply I regret it later, I am spiteful enough to do the shitty thing you are CERTAIN I WON’T DO. (This is also why I do not issue ultimatums. Because I could have the horrible luck to issue them to someone like me.)
Except this time. Because I counted to... well, ten. And then twenty. And then I poured myself a drink. And I reminded myself of all the ways the situation could get worse if she had proof in writing of me telling her in no uncertain terms that what she gave me to print was NOT GOOD AND DID NOT DESERVE TO BE RUN “AS IS.” (I am spiteful enough not to run her story. But I am not stupid enough to believe she won’t raise holy hell about it. Likewise, I am smart enough to know that I have been at this post four months, and if the Powers That Be get the idea that writers are mutinying under me after a mere four months? They may decide I’m not worth the trouble.)
I am proud to announce I did not send the knee-jerk email I wrote.
But like... seriously? Seriously?
So, I ended up returning the favor and outlining for her the extent of my editorial experience, since she may not have been privy to my resume during the hiring process (and, honestly, if you want to whip out your peen like that, I’mma whip mine out and we can measure). Because this is... literally what I do. It is literally what I am being paid to do. My job is not to just... print whatever you give me. And if what you give me is lacking in quality, it is literally my job to make it better. And I am overusing “literally,” I know, AND YET.
So. I gave her a brief rundown of my experience, and asked her if she was interested in working to improve as a writer. (Which is 100x better than the fifty other responses I drafted in my head overnight.)
No response yet, but we’ll see.
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So I have been thinking about posting here for a little while now. But... man there reaches a point when you’ve been away so long and so much has happened in the interim that you have no idea where to start.
Basically... my mental health was in the absolute toilet three years ago. If I’m being honest, it’d moved on from the toilet to the septic system. Unfortunately, I was too close to the problem see how bad it was.
You know how you’ve got coping mechanisms, and then stress kind of eats away at those coping mechanisms?
2016 and 2017 fucking devoured my coping mechanisms.
Devoured. Them.
With the benefit of hindsight, I can see now that I was pretty deep in situational depression. Everything was hard. Like... everything. Even the things I enjoyed doing. Like writing! (Actually, writing was getting hard before that point, but largely because I had attached so many extra things on to the writing itself--like remembering to format Tumblr posts for fics, and then reblogging those posts in case the initial one got missed, and MUST ANSWER THESE PROMPTS, and oh god, all the guilt when I didn’t write, didn’t participate, didn’t... do any of the things that had started out as fun but twisted sideways and backwards into obligation.)
Then 2018 came along, and it had to start getting better, right?
I was trialing more with Seeker, and it was going pretty well, but I became acutely aware of just how out of shape I was. I wanted to enjoy agility more, so I started working out--though I took a different approach to it than I had before. I knew, specifically, what I wanted to do better. So I started looking at agility drills and implementing them, and those little changes started to make a difference. Eventually, I decided to start building a gym in our garage and signed up for a fitness programming subscription service (that places its focus on performance-based goals). And it’s... absolutely made a difference. I’ve stuck with this for two and a half years now, and I can do things I’ve never been able to do before.
And then, ass end of 2018... Parker, my (at the time) 16-month old puppy... had a seizure. So hello there, monkey-wrench of 2019: canine epilepsy.
However, 2019 also brought with it one (incredibly overdue, as it happens) ADHD diagnosis. And medication. So, a year later--still on meds, still working out regularly, made gradual changes to the food I ate, and I am feeling better now than I have in a while.
Parker’s epilepsy is something we’re managing with diet and Traditional Chinese Veterinary Medicine. And we’re managing it pretty well. He was going about 10-12 weeks seizure-free for a bit, then had a 22-week no-seizure streak (which was AWESOME), but then another came on, and then another about 11 weeks after that. So... it’s a process.
Both Seeker and Parker are in agility class (together, in fact!) and Parker is entered in his first trial next month. (This pushes against my desire to keep him in a plastic bubble where he is SAFE FROM ALL THE THINGS, but that’s not remotely healthy, so...) Parker is... really good at agility. I mean, Seeker wanted to go a million miles an hour from the start (which sounds great on paper), so I had to adjust my training to encourage him to think more. (He still loves going fast, but with his brain engaged... most of the time.) But Parker started out slow and cautious, and gained speed and confidence over time--and is still gaining both!
Speaking of Seeker... he is great. He is the best wingman a girl could ask for. He is The Good Dog in the house, which is kind of amazing given what a ridiculously naughty puppy he was. He is 1000000% mama’s boy.
Sydney turned 14 in May. She’s developed some health issues in her geriatric years (chronic bronchitis, laryngeal paralysis, early-stage kidney disease) and... yeah, she’s started having seizures, too. One in May, another this week. (I will say this: my experience with Parker at least made me able to HANDLE Sydney having a seizure.)
And I started a new job in May! I’m the managing editor for a small magazine. Which is worlds better than trying to edit badly translated scientific articles. (But I have to deal with people a lot, which is... hard, sometimes. I wfh but people still insist on phoning me, which... yeah.) I am not comfortable saying WHAT magazine, because one of the things that pushed me back to Tumblr is that I use my Facebook account for work-things sometimes, and that makes it not a safe place to vent when I need to vent.
Also in May I went from brunette platinum blond.
AND THAT IS PRETTY MUCH WHERE I HAVE BEEN AND WHAT I HAVE BEEN DOING.
I don’t know how regular I’ll be around. But... there’s only one way to find out, yeah?
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A concept: Bingley buying Darcy a golden retriever because once upon a time Darcy had called him that. So now whenever Darcy has to return to Pemberly after tedious work, a golden retriever greets him with enthusiasm just as Bingley would.
Golden retrievers didn’t exist during the Regency, but I see your point.
#i need this story in my life#mr bingley#mr darcy#and puppies#thank you tumblr for this#my favorite post in a very long time
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Okay, so things have been crazy--are IN FACT still in the process of being crazy, but I am taking a moment to breathe. Last week I had a bit of a health scare (at which point I disconnected from social media, did copious amounts of yard work, and built agility equipment as my coping mechanisms), but the results came in and everything is A-OKAY, so that’s over. Thank goodness.
Agility trial this weekend at a facility I’ve never competed at (indoors, with what I hear is excellent climate control--I am very excited). Seeker needs one more qualifying score to get his Novice JWW title, so FINGERS CROSSED. And then three days after we get back from the trial I will be off for a few days to Tennessee (Mr. ‘Nista is going for business; I am tagging along to play the tourist) and back again.
Parker’s training is coming along--we’re reaching a point where I can take him on a half hour walk and he can see a car, or a dump truck, or people on bicycles and not freak out and try to pull me back home, which is HUGE PROGRESS. I’d recently re-started the Zombies Run 5k training app, but quit for a few weeks because I wanted to focus on Parker (before you can run with a dog on a leash, you have to be able to walk with a dog on a leash--without that dog having a fear-based meltdown and needing to be brought home); HOWEVER I was actually able to do a training session yesterday, and he did pretty great. We saw a couple of cars, two folks on bicycles, and a horse, and at no point did he tuck his tail between his legs and start pulling me back home, so I call that a total win.
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Mrs. Brisby
#mrs. brisby#the rats of nimh#art appreciation#kettumelli#my very favorite movie growing up#so many feels#i love this
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