The Weekly Wine Down with Laura Collins
HI there, and welcome to the Weekly Wine Down.
This weekly column is a place for me to share day-today stories from the perspective of a 22-year-old homeowner/dog owner, and whatever else is happening in this sometimes sassy, sometimes awkward journalist’s life.
I’m hoping some of you will be able to relate to my experiences and observations – they may not always be funny, or of interest to every single person, but they will always be real and they will always be me.
This week, meet my dog, Archie.
No-one more than me is wanting to stay tucked under the covers on these freezing winter mornings, except, apparently, my 12-week-old Labrador.
My easily bored puppy and I, in all of my early morning beauty, have been
taking to the streets at 6am for the past two weeks in attempt to wear off some of
his unexplainable energy – which otherwise leads to more plants being ripped from the ground and more holes being dug in our already battlefield-looking
With winter now in full swing, our strolls now include far more layers of clothing,
making me appear as if I am living in Antarctica, not Roseworthy.
Our daily walks are usually pleasant, but, one morning this week, Archie surprised me by reaching the front gate and taking off like a rocket.
Many would assume this is normal behaviour from a puppy, but this was a first for Archie, who had previously preferred a pace that allows him to catch every roadside smell possible.
Once he had run 400 metres, pulling me – who looked like the walking dead, dressed in the first clothes pulled from my wardrobe (some very outrageous
colour combinations) – along with him, he slowed to his usual pace.
After another 200 or so metres, he again picked up the speed.
I then realised he was running because he was cold.
This on-and-off sprint went on for the rest of the block until we returned home.
Now, Archie never whines or scratches at the back door after we – my partner Matt and I – have gone to bed, but this sprinting action had me questioning
my skills and judgement as a dog mum.
Have I forced my very cute little Lab to brave the cold, while I enjoy the warm of a wood fire inside?
Have I failed to understand the wants and needs of my canine child?
I am now faced with the question: do I allow him to sleep in on these cold evenings and make coming inside a right, not a privilege, or leave him out and feel like the worst human in the world?
If you have an answer to my conundrum, or have ever felt the same way, help a sister out and drop me an email!
Until next week, keep your glasses full.