Oliver!

Fatherhood is immediately transformative. I know he's just a puppy, and that I didn't sire him, but he's my boy now. When I wake up in the morning, I am eager to get out of bed to go provide for my guy’s needs. Moi! Nobody would have seen that coming.

And he has a name, tentatively--I mean, I think I'm going to stick with it, but I'm not engraving it on his sterling silver pet dish just yet.

In this photo, he's showing Daddy what I like to call "waggies." When that little tail gets going, any trouble I have completely disappears. How can one have any negative feelings when such a sweetie is clearly so happy to see you.




I have another photo of him that's one of my favorites as well. I was sitting on the couch yesterday and heard a noise on the other side of the coffee table. I peered over to find Oliver tricking out his carrier-bag. It has a mesh lining that cinches closed to keep the little guy from jumping free or falling out. I only needed to use that on the day I came home with him; usually, I just hook his collar to the mini-leash inside of it. Well, first he was chewing the crud out of the thing, so I sprayed some Bitter Apple (wonder-product) on it. When he realized he couldn't chew it, he started to get creative with how to remove it, trying to yank it out with his paws and teeth, bitter flavor be damned!

I looked at him and said, "What are you up to over there, Little Guy?" and he said, "Me?"

Two Days 'Til I'm a Dad: Name That Puppy!

Oh, isn't he just adorable? The one on the right? And his spitfire little sis currently called Minnie--isn't she tiny? And the other two are perfectly cute as well, but my little guy is just soooo precious.

And nameless still.

What shall I call him?

I've had suggestions of Zeus and Gomez. I like them both, but I'm going to have to keep the voting open for a while.




Meanwhile, I just want to say that I cannot imagine how expectant parents ever STAND it. It seriously takes all of my will to do anything at all other than freak out about whether the puppy will like his new home and best friend. Will he cry for days? Will he refuse to eat? Will he forget all the potty training he already has?

My heart is breaking for this little guy. Actually, Little Guy is the name my friend who's the breeder calls him. I like it, but not enough to saddle him with it for life. I'd rather, I think, just wait until I'm able to bond with him a little more. I promise I'll blog about real things (fashion, celebrities, maybe some politics) soon enough, but it's more than my wee brain can handle just now with all the space taken up by Little Guy.

Name That Puppy!

I haven't been able to post for days because I have puppy on the brain. I'm getting my first-ever pet since childhood, an adorable chihuahua puppy. I've been visiting the litter for eight weeks, waiting until the last possible moment to take my kind friends up on their offer to let me have first pick.

At long last, I've bonded most substantially with the little gray and white one in the background there. And I'm sure you can see why he holds the strings to my heart and manages to keep me from being able to focus on anything but preparing the puppy nursery chez moi.

So my big worry now is what to name the little feller. I'll probably spend a few days with him in my house before I choose a name, but I invite you to weigh in on possible name choices in the comments.


There he is again! Couldn't you just cry to think of all the joy holding that wee one close to you would bring?

Meanwhile, I'm having a crazy time with puppy supplies. Now, in our parents' days, you got a dog, a bowl, a bone, and you were done. Collar, sure. Leash, yeah. But in the good old US of A these days, there's a gazillion dollar industry of stuff for your pets. In Fagland, USA there's a boutique on every corner with stuff you feel you just have to have for your pet. I'm trying to resist going down that lane.

I mean, of course I had to get the puppy playpen. I'm a slob and my little guy needs a puppy-safe zone so he doesn't teethe on my bicycle tires. And these guys are wee and my apartment is drafty; and their current owners have explained that the only possible bed for my baby is a kind of doggy sleeping bag they can crawl into for warmth or just to get away from the madness that is me. (Yes, it just so happens the cheapest one I could find online or in person happened to be available only in faaaaabulous leopard print.) But I'm eschewing the Furrari. At least until his first birthday.

Hey, don't forget to help me Name That Puppy in the comments.