Truman, the eleven week old dog? Twenty two and a half pounds. I can't remember what Baxter weighed but this is seeming large to me. Something else I don't remember...the whole blank slate thing.
He had to be taught to walk up stairs. One at a time, me putting one paw on a stair and then moving the rest of them in order while he stood half frozen in terror. On the same idea? He's not going down them. Not no how. Not with treats, not with the same step by step teaching. I'm sure he'll get over it but for now, I'm scooping him up and carrying him downstairs every morning and praying he can hold it for just a few minutes longer.
He didn't drink for most of the first day he was home. We showed him his water dish but it wasn't until my husband splashed it around did he figure out what it was.
His collar? The bane of his existence.
There were some loud squawky birds outside today and his ears perked up and he RAN for the door. Somehow I foresee eighty pounds of quivering terror...hopefully he outgrows this.
Last time, with Baxter? We went for the super happy puppy. The one that licked us and wanted to play. Six YEARS later, he was an enjoyable dog to have around. Years one through five? He was hell-on-wheels. Or paws, as the case may be. This time we walked into the dog run and when four of the puppies ran over to jump and play with us my eyes went straight to the dog hanging back, half asleep in the corner.
I'm half convinced he has narcolepsy. And I'm thanking my lucky stars every day.
So far my responses to the ultra annoying Marley thing have been:
He had to be taught to walk up stairs. One at a time, me putting one paw on a stair and then moving the rest of them in order while he stood half frozen in terror. On the same idea? He's not going down them. Not no how. Not with treats, not with the same step by step teaching. I'm sure he'll get over it but for now, I'm scooping him up and carrying him downstairs every morning and praying he can hold it for just a few minutes longer.
He didn't drink for most of the first day he was home. We showed him his water dish but it wasn't until my husband splashed it around did he figure out what it was.
His collar? The bane of his existence.
There were some loud squawky birds outside today and his ears perked up and he RAN for the door. Somehow I foresee eighty pounds of quivering terror...hopefully he outgrows this.
Last time, with Baxter? We went for the super happy puppy. The one that licked us and wanted to play. Six YEARS later, he was an enjoyable dog to have around. Years one through five? He was hell-on-wheels. Or paws, as the case may be. This time we walked into the dog run and when four of the puppies ran over to jump and play with us my eyes went straight to the dog hanging back, half asleep in the corner.
I'm half convinced he has narcolepsy. And I'm thanking my lucky stars every day.
So far my responses to the ultra annoying Marley thing have been:
- "Who's Marley?" which, when combined with a confused expression has people thinking I live in another dimension.
- "Um, no this isn't Marley...wasn't that a movie or something?"
- "Nope, not Marley...I'm pretty sure he died, didn't he?"
2 comments:
Smooches to Truman, the so far uber mello puppy. (being afraid isn't a bad thing)
And .... who is this Marley you speak of?
LOL And yes, I had not realized the completeness of the blank slate thing when we got a puppy either. Sometimes it's cute, others...well...
But Truman is sooo adorable (that's my hint that we need more pics!)
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