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garranSo, a few days ago, my mother went out and bought a dog; she brought him home last night. It's been more than a decade since we had to give my first dog away; I've often in that time said that I'd like to have one again, but it's been so long since I've had an animal with personality around, and my life has such a different shape now than it had when last I did, that I'm really not sure how he's going to fit in for me yet.
He is a poodle, because they have hair and not fur and so my mother is not allergic to them, and he is small and black and shaggy, and looks a little like a tiny bear. Apparently he'll turn grey as he grows. He doesn't have a name yet, and will probably not be named by me, since, although there's something sort of unformed tugging at me in that direction, I haven't really had any good ideas. Where Casey - our former dog, a lakeland terrier - had a sort of a sad and downtrodden expression, this guy has a look of alarmed excitement, and he likes to run around, and chew on this piece of rope he has, and hop up on my lap and paw at my torso.
We've built him a little fenced-in pen at the edge of the dining room; it includes a kennel, for sleeping, and a strange sort of scented toilet-pad, which I guess is an invention of the last ten years. (This has some effect on how much of a good idea it is for me to have dinner there late at night anymore.) Last night, after we'd put him in there and turned out the lights and started to go away, to encourage him to sleep, my mother warned me, "Now, he's probably going to start crying"; and indeed no sooner had she said this than a sad and plaintive yelping began.
It really made me want to go back and play with him. "Is it always necessary to traumatize one's tiny charges?" I asked my mother.
"Yes," she said.
He is a poodle, because they have hair and not fur and so my mother is not allergic to them, and he is small and black and shaggy, and looks a little like a tiny bear. Apparently he'll turn grey as he grows. He doesn't have a name yet, and will probably not be named by me, since, although there's something sort of unformed tugging at me in that direction, I haven't really had any good ideas. Where Casey - our former dog, a lakeland terrier - had a sort of a sad and downtrodden expression, this guy has a look of alarmed excitement, and he likes to run around, and chew on this piece of rope he has, and hop up on my lap and paw at my torso.
We've built him a little fenced-in pen at the edge of the dining room; it includes a kennel, for sleeping, and a strange sort of scented toilet-pad, which I guess is an invention of the last ten years. (This has some effect on how much of a good idea it is for me to have dinner there late at night anymore.) Last night, after we'd put him in there and turned out the lights and started to go away, to encourage him to sleep, my mother warned me, "Now, he's probably going to start crying"; and indeed no sooner had she said this than a sad and plaintive yelping began.
It really made me want to go back and play with him. "Is it always necessary to traumatize one's tiny charges?" I asked my mother.
"Yes," she said.
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Date: 2006-01-27 01:14 am (UTC)can i come over and play with it? will it pee on me? i don't want to play with it if it will pee on me but otherwise i would really like to meet the little fellow.
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Date: 2006-01-27 06:45 am (UTC)-Andy H.
I don't have a dog icon. But a headfox is /nearly/ a dog, darnit.
Date: 2006-01-27 07:08 am (UTC)Yay! This so sounds like something your mom would say. Which is meet, I guess, considering that she said it. Hi, Mrs. Andy's Mom! I hope you & Andy & John enjoy the new dog.
Arf. Arf arf arf. *chews on the cuffs of Garran's pants*
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Date: 2006-01-27 08:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-27 11:29 pm (UTC)Awww~~~
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Date: 2006-01-27 11:31 pm (UTC)