Happiness Is... (Maggie)

I honestly had no intention of coming home with a puppy when I went with my closest companion to Unadilla, or thereabouts, to look at the week-old litter of English Mastiffs and possibly put a deposit down on one of them. And so off we went, in the rental car, because the Murano was still in the shop. (I get to pick it up today, another cause for happy-dancing, but I digress.) And there were the tiny little week-old pups, looking approximately like fetuses. (Feti?) They squirmed a little. I wasn't allowed to touch them, which was probably some wise bit of knowledge on the part of the breeder, but it doesn't do much for bonding. I expected to fall in love with them on sight, and the reality of a seven day-old pup was quite disappointing.

The thing is, there was this other puppy there, and the owner introduced us. He was a 10 week-old from a previous litter, and as it turned out, he was available. She let him out of his pen, and said, you can take him today if you want. And I said, I can't take a puppy home in a rental car. And then he licked my face. And then I took him home in the rental car. And it was okay, because most of the puppy vomit was caught by my BFF's jeans.


And so, meet Dozer. We named him on the way home, and so far it's sticking, though I naturally added to it, embellished it, edited it, if you will, to make it a bit more interesting. So his full name is Dozer the Dozarian. I felt really badly when I first decided on the name, because I seemed to be the only one who got it and found it cuter than hell. Neither my BFF nor any of my daughters got it. But then I posted it online to my writer friends, most of whom claim to be my age, (although we all know they're much older) and they all got it right away. So did the new vet. So clearly, anyone who doesn't get it, is young and out of touch and needs to get themselves a copy of GHOSTBUSTERS, and meet Gozer the Gozarian immediately. (And just a sidebar here: I had a cat that I adored, who was with me for years, named Vigo, after Vigo the Carpathian in GHOSTBUSTERS II, and my current cat is named for Glorificus, the demon Goddess from the next to the last season of BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. I seem to have a thing for demons and villains, huh?)

Glory is, well, let's call it less than amused. I've had the pup since Sunday and she's barely come close enough to sniff him, although I have to say that she's been gradually showing a bit more interest. Mostly, though, she's just pissed. I know she'll be fine--she adored Wrinkles, and even grew to like Sally to the point where she would rub around her legs. But I think she had decided she was an only child and she's greatly disappointed to learn she's not.

Though I bought Dozer a big puppy bed, he chose the kitty bed instead. (It's okay, Glory never set foot in it. She flatly refused, sniffed it once right after I bought it, and turned up her nose, then pranced across the floor and jumped up onto the couch, as if to say, "You think that bed's so great, YOU sleep in it!") Anyway, for the first two days, Dozer mostly laid in the cat bed. he's curled up tight in the pic, but when he lays flat, he hangs over both sides. He's way too big for it.

I've bought him a crate since, but he's barely been in it. When I'm home I don't see the need. And he sleeps with me at night. Bad idea? Yeah, since he could get up to 200 pounds, but I just can't help myself.

But we're working on housetraining, and buying lots of chew toys, and hoping Glory will soften up her hard-ass attitude and make friends. We've had our first vet visit, and we're hoping the motion sickness will pass as he gets older and more used to riding in the car.

Barry, my body guy (that sounds way worse than I meant it to) just detailed the Murano. I really hope the pup isn't going to puke all over it.

But even if he does, I don't care. I really was doing great, before Dozer. I really was. I was staying positive, with rare exceptions. Maybe one day a week or so when I wanted to crawl into a hole and rip the head off anything that tried to crawl in after me. But mostly, I was doing well.

Now, though, now, I'm bouncing when I walk, and I can't stop smiling. I feel like if I walked into a dark room I could light it, because I must be glowing. My happiness quotient has shot up 200%. He's eaten my purse, he's peed and pooped on my rugs, he gets me up at all hours of the night, and I wouldn't trade him for the world. One really great thing is that, I have nothing really nice for him to ruin, as far as flooring, or carpeting or furniture goes. Everything's gone, and I'm living on cheap temporary stuff while awaiting the re-construction. And by the time I replace all of that, he should be pretty well trained.

I think Wrinkles and Sally approve. I think they hadn't moved on before. Maybe they were waiting for someone to step in to watch over me the way they did, because I haven't been awakened by the clear sound of them barking since I brought Dozer home, and prior to that, they woke me almost every night.

There's a dog in the house again. And now everything really is okay again.

Tell me about your pet-friends! Oh, and share your puppy training tips! I've got books and the crate and the Sporn halter leash, and I'm trying, but it's going to be tough if I don't teach him young, because he's going to be HUGE when he's grown!

Till next time,
Maggie