In My Own Voice #5: Butterfingers

I don’t like to speak ill of my family, but some of them are remarkably clumsy.

Before going to bed I like to take at least one of them out for a walk. It’s helpful to make one last use of the facilities and I’ve noticed they benefit too. On our walk they often chit chat with other. It’s a time for all of us to get some fresh air and bond.

When we get home, I like to have a little rawhide nightcap. And here’s where the weirdness begins.

Some of my family holds the rawhide until I come over and collect it before retiring to the dining room to savor it in privacy.

But some of them seem to have a hard time maintaining control of the rawhide. Out of the blue, I find that they have flung it to the far corners of the room. To help cover up their embarrassing lack of coordination, I try to catch it before it thuds to the floor. But this is virtually impossible to do. The best I can offer is scooting over to wherever it landed and retrieving it as quickly as possible before retiring to the dining room.

I would’ve thought as they’ve gotten older they would have developed better control of their fingers and would not be dropping and tossing these treats around. It’s one skill I have not been successful at teaching them.

I hold out hope that they will develop better coordination soon.

[Authors note: despite our best efforts, Pettigrew shows no signs of being a retriever, or a trained seal for that matter; although, my husband has not given up hope that he can train Pettigrew to catch his nightly rawhide. To which I say, lots of luck. They deserve each other.]