Around our house, summer is usually the happiest time of the year for dogs. That’s because the venerable old fig tree that’s been here since well before we moved in 36 years ago bears so much fruit  we can’t possibly use it all, and figs rain down, splattering in the dirt. Observant resident canines usually gobble up many of them. By the end of the summer, the dogs invariably look a few pounds heavier.

When we returned from our African travels at the end of June, I noted ripe fruit on the tree and the ground, and I assumed that Dionne would immediately discover the joys of figging. Letting one’s puppy eat fallen figs isn’t exactly in the CCI Puppy-raiser’s Manual, but Steve and I have never been too draconian about preventing it. For a few days after her return from her sojourns with the puppy-sitters, Dionne did forage happily.

But after that first happy weekend, she had a revolting episode of diarrhea. So — yet again — we’re mostly only allowing her into the yard on leash. We have mixed feelings about this. We suspect she may end up being more amenable to life as a service dog if she’s spent most of her puppyhood confined by our sides. But clearly she’d be happier if she could roam around freely.

This afternoon the pangs of sympathy for her need to get out and tear around became too strong for me, so I let her out off-leash for a few minutes (during which I watched her pretty closely.) I noted that not many figs were on the ground. I think the first wave of ripening is past, and the second won’t come for several more weeks. But instead of figs, lots of baby avocados have been falling off our old avocado tree. (We’re hoping that’s just because it was so loaded with fruit that some self-culling was necessary.)

Dionne loves the baby avocados too. This afternoon she snatched one up and raced around with it, then hunkered down to chew it up.

They must taste awful — hard and bitter, but she doesn’t appear to care. I told myself she probably wouldn’t get sick from it. At the same time, I only let her munch on one before I rounded her up and brought her inside. The memory of that last diarrheal attack hasn’t yet faded.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s