Charlie’s turtle fixation reared
its turtle head again this morning. Charlie’s fixation started as a youngster
when he found a turtle, was fascinated by it and in his little pea brain, when no real turtle was to be found, he
substituted large rocks for turtles. He would find a huge stone, try to pick it up, whine and scream at it in an effort
to get it to move. If he did get the darn stone in his mouth, he would run around and there was no getting him to come
and give it to me or to drop it. His teeth were in jeopardy, so I resorted to an e-collar and he gave up his rock fetish,
albeit reluctantly. That was at least a year ago.
Well, this morning Charlie ran
into the woods by the field where we walk and emerged with a "rock", trotted to the middle of the field and spit it out and
began pawing it... I thought, darn he is at it again. I guess just
like some recovering alcoholics, he was slipping off the wagon and needed some help.
I'm going to have to zap him as I know how bad the rocks are for his teeth.
I go over and lo and behold, it
ain't no stone. Charlie has a real live, breathing, moving, or not,
box turtle and he is very excited and very, very proud of himself.
Our training withstood the test
and without a correction, I put Charlie in a down, stay. I then remind him that turtles are off bounds. I tell him he can chase his kong, but the turtle is no longer his prize.
I throw Charlie's
kong as far as I can and he happily goes off to retrieve it for me. As soon as his back is turned, I grab Mr. Turtle
and stuff him in my shirt pocket. Charlie returns with the kong, but his eyes are checking everywhere for Mr. Turtle.
I throw his kong toy again and I begin walking toward the woods... I am
able to keep him occupied chasing the kong as we walk into the woods where his attention shifts to chasing smells… squirrels…
and perhaps looking for Mr. Turtle’s Mrs. Finally, while Charlie is sniffing
under a tree up ahead, I take Mr. Turtle and, after telling him to stay outta trouble, I put him way under the underbrush
and out of sight.
I’m hopeful Mr. T found
his way back to his neck of the woods and to Mrs. T.
