I swear, this dog. . . She is going to be the end of me. She better be glad that I find her so funny, and that she is so lovable when she isn't being a neurotic head case, because I know a lot of people that would have kicked her to the curb by now.
This dog used to beat me down to get outside. If she heard me so much as touch the doorknob to the back door, she came running, and lord help me if I was in her way. Then, for some reason a year and a half ago, she just wouldn't go anymore. I opened the back door and cleared out of the way for her and she came running like always, but came to a dead halt at the door way, looked at me, and started backing up. It was so strange!
Ever since then, she will not go outside unless either: a- one of us goes with her. b- we throw her out.
But the dog LOVES to be outside! If we go with her, she romps and plays and chases squirrels and barks at the runners across the street just like she used to. And we figured out that if we can get her out and then leave the door cracked, she knows we aren't leaving and she will do the same. But if she thinks we are leaving. . . oh, you would think we were trying to trap her in a room full of fire breathing, razor backed horses or something.
In the mornings, we have to LITERALLY throw her out. Now, this dog is small framed for a German shepherd, but she still weights a good 65 pounds. So this is the process we have to go through. I walk outside with her while Bill waits at the door. There is no chance of me beating her back in the house. (Trust me, I have tried every way possible.) So when I walk toward the door, Bill is there to catch her and not let her back in. The trick is getting her far enough away from the door that we can get the door closed without closing it on her. This is not easy, as she is the fastest large dog I have ever seen. (She caught a mouse once. Another story.) So what happens is he holds her while I get in the house around her. Then one of us takes her by the chest and shoves her slightly up and out so that she backs up on her hind legs, and is off balance enough that we can get the door shut, and all she can do is give us the, "Why do you hate me?" look.
Now if you ever see this look, don't let it fool you. As soon as she sees us heading out the door, she runs and plays. She didn't hear me come back in the house one morning when I forgot something because she was chasing a bird. Uh-huh. I've busted her act.
So anyway, when it is time to go out in the mornings, now, she hides. Yes, she hides. It used to be in pretty obvious places, like on her bed in the back bedroom or in the bathroom. One morning, though, I checked all of the normal places and she wasn't in any of them. I called her but she wouldn't come. I finally found her in the back bedroom closet. Of course she rolled over on her back and went all limp when I tried to haul her out.
You should see Bill try to carry a 65 pound German shepherd who has gone completely limp like a 5 year old.
I think if dogs could roll their eyes, Abbey would be every morning.
