... as my mother would say.
"Viliane" has become "Rona" (short for Verona). Pedigree dogs born in the same year all have the same initial for their name - being an indication of the year they were born. So pedigree dogs born in 2024, all have names begin with "V". Viliane is hard to remember and starting "Vi" almost always morphs into Vita. She needs her own name. So Rona she is, and we remember most of the time
She came to us at 9 months and now she's 10. She is a handful and still very much a puppy. Friends ask why was she 9 months and still at the breeders. We don't know, but can well imagine more than one set of prospective owners brought her back!
Her preferred stance is front paws on our chest so she can converse more easily with us. On the ground is too far away. And if front paws are not on us, then on the kitchen worktop, so she can see what we are preparing for supper.
Plastic is irresistible, making a satisfying cracking noise between her teeth. The clasps on one of Tod's sandals have been chewed - fortunately he has another pair. Hose connectors are a fair target, as are the plastic containers for young plants (which are scattered round the lawn while she runs off with the tray). More alarmingly, she likes plastic wiring (my phone charger lead is no more). She's taken a fancy to the telephone wire on the ground that goes down to the cottage (not good for internet connection) and we fear she may go for electric cables - we are hastily "puppy proofing" how we live.
She has found her voice, which is a banshee wail (no doubt much to the horror of distant neighbours). Often, we have no idea what she is yelling at - bird song, dogs barking on the TV, to let us know it's morning, to warn us we might have visitors (not that we have many - her bark/howl is enough to deter anyone - she could audition for the hound of the Baskervilles).
We're hoping that her tendency to wee in the dining room is gradually being resolved - by a crack of dawn walk with Tod before any "accidents" can happen. Having lived outside at the breeders she's never been house trained and the tiles in the dining room look much like the tiles on the terrace where she lived.
She also comes when called (even when in the middle of "greeting" Jehovah's Witnesses), knows "sit" and "down" and (unlike Vita and Bertie) actually does it. Our field with its long grasses is a joy, into which she bounds, disappears and then re-emerges with a grin on her face, zooms past us and disappears again - Airedale version of hide and seek.
She rolls on her back in the long grass by the entrance post and then slides and summersaults backwards into the ditch alongside. It looks alarming but she climbs back out and comes racing across the drive to tell us "what fun".
She is adorable and she makes us laugh. We are so lucky we found her.
