Dog...s....

When it comes to puppies, the old phrase "one is too many, a thousand is never enough" seems to apply. After spending a few days with our yet-unnamed dog (Winston? Doggert? Egon? He hasn't responded reliably to any of these) we realized he would be a lot happier if he had a friend from his pack to be with -- something to bite and chew on other than my arm, and to jump around with or cuddle with as the mood strikes.

So, we went by the house where the dogs were and asked after another -- a girl, so we could name it Sonmi-451. The first dog they pulled from the box was runty and shivering, and making very soft pig noises, like that first scene where Fern gets Wilbur and he's all wrapped in the blanket and stuff. And then they pulled out another girl, a grey with bluish eyes, bigger, beautiful, and sturdier seeming, and then we asked them to please stop or I would want to take every one of them home. How can you look into the tick-swarming eyes of a malnourished pup and say "yeah, I think I liked the other one better"?

We decided to take the first one, as she seemed more in need of attention, and more submissive, which might have just been a state of hunger-induced lassitude; she gets feistier with each bowl of kibble. She is adorable -- see picture of her tiny body next to Jeremy's hand -- but she likes to crawl around on my head and bite my hair in the night when I'm sleeping. Hard. Like she's trying to eat my brains through my skull. I don't really like it. We found out that the puppies are only 6 weeks old, so they are just getting weaned and she's probably trying to suckle my follicles, which is disappointing for everyone involved. Tonight we'll try again to get the sleep situation worked out, as I don't do well with sleep deprivation. How will I ever have human babies? I've heard they're even more demanding than dogs....