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I'm a granny!!

wish more people were as thoughtful.

Hey, we've had plenty of practice protecting our pizzas (great alliteration there):D Not that we ever needed a barrier for that, but then he did once manage to swifly swipe a slice (I'm on a roll....). Given that he recognises puppies (albeit he's never met one so young) as being puppies and is reliable with him, I wonder if he recognises the baby as being human, as opposed to food, or not? Even if he did, though, he doesn't like children anyway. My aim is for him to come to see the baby as boring, though I doubt I'd ever be able to let my guard down completely.
 
I side with Hemlock. Jasper can still see what’s going on - not excluded - can see and smell the new squeaky entity and still party to the regime within reason.
When our daughter was tiny our cats would go into her playpen when she was out - much safer from the crawler! Happy days - laughter, silly songs and appreciation of Daddy’s music and then Take That appeared. Quel dommage.
 
Actually, thinking further on the prey/not prey dichotomy in Jasper's brain, he certainly knows that a squeaky ball isn't a rabbit, but his brain still lights up when he hears one, and not in a way I'd like if I were a squeaky ball....... :eek:
 
Granddaughter is 16 months now, and it occurred to me the other day that there's a lot of similarity between an 'early toddler' and a dog. She doesn't really speak apart from 'No!' (her daddy's first word too!) and a few one-syllable attempts at 'cat', 'dog', 'shoes' etc., so our connection with her is through facial expressions and body language - when she makes eye contact with me and smiles, or opens her arms to ask for a hug, I melt. It feels like the 'words aren't necessary' bond you have with your dog. And I spend a lot of time thinking, 'What on earth is going on in her brain now???':D

I still try to use words like 'sit', 'wait', and 'wassis', but honestly, her training is rubbish. But then I'm not reinforcing her with bits of kibble...
 
You’ll have to start spelling words now. We couldn’t say ‘squirrel’ within the hearing of our previous two whippets. It was a pity we didn’t spell ‘Mrs Misery’ when referring to our village’s postmistress when we lived in Cornwall. Very embarrassing for me.
 
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