Punta and Pony pose for a portait after the 24 hour sleep over began. See how nice Pony sits?
The pipsqueak rat terrier came in here thinking she'd own Punta. So then Punta never let it rest.
A bad sign was her escape upon arrival, after I had locked down the compound and opened her pet carrier. Ric and Christina, guests from Canada, saw me trying to get her to come back as she did a couple fly-bys. So they worked with a brigade of neighbor children led by David, and ultimately carried her home.
This was a miracle because Pony isn't all that fond of children or males, being the second dog taken away from a Maya boy in San Cosme, where a pet sterilization clinic was recently held. The boy didn't mind giving up his abused dog because, hey, they're just toys.
OMG. That's when I realized the fence posts can't hold her, nor the bars in the steel door in the back patio entrance. She's that tiny, just slips right through even though she looks bigger.
Then Wrestlemania began. By about 3am, Pony played dead. Without a command to do so. I believe that in collegiate wrestling, this is called passivity. But it would pick back up and continued all night. Then the dog walker came at 7:30am, having not slept for other reasons, and took one look at me and said, "Oh no!" She knows rat terriers. "I'm scared of that dog. I was just bitten by a cat!"
I suggested she just take Pony just go to the corner for business and back, since she gets a lot of doggie play opportunities at Alison's Isla Animals and the "no can do" emergency call was already made. So just a short walk before Jeff and Alison come, please.
Pony had other ideas, slipped herself out of her collar after pooping during the walk and headed into a neighbor's house, hammock sleepers still asleep at 8am, into their sleeping room and up a flight to stairs onto the roof.
There the whole neighborhood looked out at them and laughed.
Inga Gross, the dog walker, says this kind of puppy play is called schmoozle in German. That's where we get the word schmooze. It also applies to rat terriers napping in the spoon position, which I am sure might have happened had they continued over days
But I have multiple sclerosis and am unsteady on my feet, having a 10 pound dynamo at my feet is far more dangerous than Punta alone, though she is a big dog. "Casi un pony," Alfredo the dog groomer said. Almost a pony.
Carmen calls her Barbie because of her long, slim legs. But she is learning not to jump. She doesn't pull on her leash. She will mature into the only dog I need and can have play dates at Alison's or with the beach dogs near Mar y Sol when she needs more socialization.
Now, Pony resumes waiting on a ride to Seattle or Portland. She needs a good person to schmoozle with and lots of space to run. And having some rats around to catch is perfect for a feisty rat terrier.