20. Happiness is a cold donkey

A cold, windy day, and Gus is extra-eager when I arrive.  He waits nicely while I remove his blanket, but then hangs by me and clearly wants to move or play or learn or anything. Maybe he’s just hungry for treats.  But he’s also concerned by the sporadic banging of the arena doors, so after he rolls I swagger over to them and give them what-for.  I scold them, shake and swat them, and snort with brio.  When I turn back, I find Gus has parked himself immediately behind me, watching closely.  Again, he seems to buy into my sentry schtick and ignores all future noises.

Asinine elation

He’s still very energetic, though, so I leave his rope off — safer for both of us if he does shy suddenly.  Since he’s so focused on me, I don’t need a line anyway. He trots by my side, staying in pretty good position even while flinging his head around wildly.  As I trot over a ground pole, he leaps over it as if clearing a two-foot oxer.  That seems to tickle him even more, inspiring repeated bouts of giddy trotting and jumping.  To catch my breath and keep him moving, I roll out the beachball, and he chases it many, many times all over the arena.  He trots after it with predatory glee, sometimes grunting at it a little, and tries to bite it.  Each good nose-bop gets a click, but sometimes he resumes the chase before I can deliver the treat.  

When he leaves off ball-rolling in order to roll himself in the dirt again, I put the beachball away.  We work with equal esprit on the plastic chair, traffic cones, pirouetting, and dancer’s arms.  Betweentimes, he responds to my beckoning almost every time promptly, and often at a trot.

This is the most laughing out loud I’ve done with him so far.

Back in his stall (and knowing that dinner is due soon), Gus is his usual pushy self around the door.  He’s barging and leaning on the stall guard, rubbernecking into the aisle, filling up the space I need to enter and exit, and I’m sick of it.  I add “stay!” to my “ba-a-ack” commands, and he begins to show a modicum of self-control.  He’s good about hoofpicking and blanketing.  When I try a little “fun with feet,” mirroring one step forward and one back, he hesitates to step forward, probably because we had just been doing stays.  Agenda item:  be sure to distinguish clearly when a stay is and isn’t required.