On Saturday morning we got up at an hour one should NOT be up at on a Saturday morning, and headed out for a two hour drive to Ballarat – it seems all the stars aligned this week – I’m about to start new job close to home, with shorter day hours, and a breeder I had been speaking to on and off for the last 6 months (we’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not, we’re going away! We’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not, we work stupid hours and are out late at night! We’re ready to get a dog! Wait, no we’re not…) had a pup become available after all.
So we went to see her. She was chunky and sweet and very very happy to meet us. We figured we kinda liked her.
I spoke seriously to the breeder about vaccinations and worming and diet and hip dysplasia, and she gave me a bunch of information that mostly made sense and some that, from my (city) vet nursing point of view, made no fucking sense at all but hey, the dog was really cute!
So we bought her home
She has filled us with alternating senses of joy (The softy softness of her soft puppy ears! She’s so roly-poly and sweet! Look at her little face!) and terror (We’re responsible for this little life?!). Also, she snores. We’re undecided on that right now.
Oh, and this is where I officially apologise to all the vet clients over the years that I have said ‘Toilet-training a puppy? Oh, it’s easy! Just do A, B and C!’ . Because we’re doing A, B, and C, and she will still cock around outside for two hours sniffing this and that, and then poop as soon as she gets back inside. FFFffffffuuuuuuuu…..!