As life would have it, George moved from our house to our friends’. It actually seemed to work very well for everyone involved. I was struggling with medical physical issues and George needed someone who would be there, our friends had just lost their own dog and wanted a little creature for their patch of land. It was a good fit.
That, however, was last year. Medical issues or not, I was kicked out of the puppy-choosing committee and Lovely Hubby took over. Not long after, we got a puppy; Norman.
Norman was (and is) incredibly adorable. You can’t see him and not want to kiss him or pet him or hug him. I was in love in seconds.
Ocean was more cautious than I was getting to know him but she’s fallen for his charms as well.
He might be little, but he’s a trouble maker. From toilet paper to slippers, nothing is safe around the house. And if you are eating a banana, get ready to share…
It is hard to get upset at him when he’s just such a happy, little puppy. All he wants to do is spend time with us and love us. How can I resist that? The truth is, I’m soft putty in his hands (ah…paws). And he’s getting away with murder.
He jumped up at Hubby one too many times and, horror of all horrors, made him spill a cup of his beloved tea.
That was the end. Good Brit that he is, Hubby drew a line.
When I started to think of getting a new dog, I had dreams of a gentle, snuggly ball of fluff that I could love and kiss and spend loving time with.
I researched Newfoundlanders and they claimed to be ‘gentle giants’. When I read that, I thought: perfect. This is the breed for us.
What I didn’t know is that Newfs turn out to be gentle giants but they start out as hyper active, biting machines.
George bites. Everything. He nips arms, cables, sleeves, pant legs, faces, noses, furniture…basically anything he can reach with those sharp, little teeth. Within one day of his arrival, my arms were checkered blue and green with his bites.
Originally, we were worried Ocean might be too rough with him. One second of seeing them together changed that. Now we worry that George might be too much for Ocean.
We’ve had to buy two crates to keep George from biting sockets or something else that would harm him. We’ve had to put away our carpet because he was going to eat the thing. We have things that have suddenly gone missing, from the TV remote to clothing. We seriously thought about giving him up to the SPCA or to the next person who walked by our house.
We picked George up from a cargo building at the airport. He looked lost and sad. I reassured him that things would be fine but he didn’t seem convinced. The ride home, with tummy rubs, water to drink and breaks to go for little walks helped convince him we were friendly.
They don’t let them eat before they travel, so this little guy was hungry when he got home. He ate his supper with enthusiasm and then wanted nothing else but to get into trouble.
Sleeping with a new puppy is a complete joke. The only one who slept in our house was George because, whenever he cried, we thought he needed to go out and up we went to help him get outside. Sometimes he needed to go out, other times, he was just bored and looking for tummy rubs.
Coffee was a definite must this morning.
Ocean took one look at the fluff ball and declared all her toys out of bounds…which, of course, meant George wanted them all immediately.
I’ve explained things to Ocean, who’s pretty blasé about the idea, and I’ve given her tons of extra kisses to reassure her she’s not forgotten. Still, there are a ton of things to do to get ready for a new puppy.
I’ve found this blog that follows a Newfoundlander owner so that I can see what to do and what to avoid. We’ve bought a couple of things…
I’ve also bought a few more towels to have as doggie towels because when you have a puppy, there are messes. We’ve also got a new fence to enclose a little section of our yard for those times when George and Ocean are both outside unsupervised (we want to make sure there are no fights). We’re also putting a new fence on our deck so there are no sneaky areas he can scramble into under there and get into trouble.
Unlike poor George at the vets, we are pretty excited.
Well, after seeing so many puppies and doggies, it was really bound to happen. We got a doggie. He’s not with us yet; he’s too little. But he’s coming and he’ll be with us on June 10th. He’s arriving on a plane–which is pretty exciting.
He’s a Newfoundlander. A breed that I’m super excited to have. and he’s going to be called George.
Now, I would have told you all sooner but my lovely hubby and his friend decided to clean up our house this weekend and they cut some cables that seemed to be useless to them…so we had no internet, cable or electricity as a result. It took a couple of days to get someone in to fix things.
Now, I’ve explained things to Ocean, who doesn’t seem very impressed with the idea of a new brother. She’s quite determined to show him who’s boss and who’s toys are hers (all of them). But, I think, once she meets him, she’ll learn to love him.
So, things are very exciting here. We can’t wait for George to arrive and have him running about the house. We’re probably in for a couple of sleepless nights and all the fun things that come with puppies. But, the best part is that you can hear all about it through this blog and not have to miss a single minute of rest or clean a single accident. We’ll be doing all that over here.
Well, it’s Mother’s Day here and I got a lovely gift for it…I got a particularly lovely wet kiss from a very special pooch.
But most of my weekend was spent researching breeders and trying to convince my lovely hubby that we might need another dog. See, Ocean is getting on in years. Now, chihuahuas out there need not fear, I researched rather larger breeds.
I looked up both the English Mastiff and the Neapolitan Mastiff.
Nothing is guaranteed. We’re just going to go and see the dogs and meet the breeders. I have questions for the breeder and am quite choosy about who I want to get a puppy from…
Still, you might get a post with some pictures coming up. Just saying.
I had no idea what that was. None. It turns out that Conformation is the shape or structure of an animal, in this case, a dog. Judges run their hands along the sides and legs of the dog to assess their shape and structure and see if they meet the breeds’ ideal.
There are several types of different dog shows, some are for agility, some for hunting and some, are conformation. In those, the dogs compete for the Best in Show and earn points towards their championship papers.
The cool thing, for someone like me who’s just a little dog-obsessed, is that you can go to these events and see virtually every breed of dog ever imagined, polished, prepped and looking their absolute best. Imagine! Every kind of dog. Ever!
So, of course, that’s on my to-do list. But…how do I find those dog shows? Well, here’s one nifty little webpage: www.canuckdogs.com. There, you can find shows under any province and type of dog or type of show. If you live in the US, here’s a different but just as useful site for you: www.akc.org/sports/conformation.com. It has the same shows but just in the States.
So, what is my trusty hound doing while I am researching all this online? She’s super busy protecting us from nasty intruders, of course.
I have Covid. Now, my lovely, gentle reader, do not fret. I am healing and doing alright mostly because my genes are like those in weeds and will not die no matter what, also because I have every vaccine available to humankind in my body and finally, because I have a lovely nurse called Ocean by my side.
My nurse is quite vigilant and takes excellent care of me. She is always by my side, ready to poke her little wet nose at me or entrance me with her doggie breath. She even insists on my coming outside with her from time to time to get some fresh air.
She does have other duties that keep her busy but she always has time for me.
I work with the public, that’s where I got Covid, but I am home. I cannot return to work because the public, having once gotten rid of their Covid virus, do not want it back. So, I am home under the excellent care of my hairy, fluffy nurse who insists on sleeping with me at night.