And Then There Were Three

We’ve been talking about it for well over a year. I’ve been longing for it on my own for much longer than that. The poor H has wanted one his entire life. And this weekend, after a trip out to Western Massachusetts, we finally brought home a little furry bundle of joy – a Puggle puppy, that we named Flutie. Dog Flutie.

It’s true, he’s no Corgi (a.k.a. my dream dog). But I have Dan’s commitment - in writing (I’m not a half-bad lawyer, it turns out) - that we will have a Corgi in our home during our lifetime. Flutie will need a little brother or sister eventually, and a Corgi needs considerably more space than the apartment-friendly Puggle breed. One day we may have a yard versus the tiny concrete alley smack dab in the middle of the city that is currently our out door space. So far, Flutie doesn’t seem to mind. Plus, Corgis shed like craaaazy and the H isn’t sure he’s ready for a life of Claritin and lint-rollers.

It’s been quite the week to put it mildly, for more reasons than just puppy. But more on those developments another time. The puppy alone was enough to add considerable frenzy to our lives. I’ve worked from home most of the week, with the H acting as my reliever when I had to run into the office. We haven’t had to leave him alone in his crate for longer than half an hour yet. But the day of reckoning is upon us. And not a moment too soon. Today Flutie starts an intensive “puppy program” with a local dog care facility, where they essentially crate-train and mostly house-break the dog by the end of the 6 week program. He’s cool with going in the crate, its when we shut the door and leave the room that he totally. flips. his. shizz. We have been, for the most part, too weak-willled to deal with it. Thankfully, for the next six weeks we’re leaving most of the tough love to trained professionals.

But he’s such a good boy, so loving and as energetic as any puppy can be. We’re just thoroughly and completely in love. Our whole world this week has been puppy-filled: puppy-kisses, puppy-snuggles, puppy-breath, puppy-poop, puppy-mischief, puppy-everthing-everywhere. No dog could possibly be more “ours” and we already can’t imagine life without him. Even if I could imagine a life with a little more sleep right now.

And now a limerick:

There once was a Puggle named Flutie,
A spry, rough and tumble young beauty,
Your face he will lick
And bad habits he’ll kick
Once crate-trained he’ll make much less doody.