Falling Stars

I completely forgot to blog about our new puppy dog!  On May 1, 2011 Zach & I officially adopted a new puppy dog.  He is 6 yrs. old and kind of hard to take an expressive photograph of, because he is all black.  Over the past few days he has proven himself to be so much like Tobey!  They will have cute little face-offs where they both stare at the wall while standing in the same position (same foot lifted and all!) Growling at each other exactly the same way while shifting their little eyes to stare at the other over their shoulder.  They run the same, they both follow me around the house and are (sorry, Hun) sort of scared of Zach the same.  They also have facial structures which appear quite similar while also being close in size.  His name on Sunday was Razz.  By Monday morning it had become Ninja.  It just so happens that Ninja  is the perfect name for him!  He's always slinking around slipping underneath a blanket or sneaking into the bathroom without me noticing.  I can always hear when Tobey sneaks in.  The only reason I even know Ninja does it is because, get this:  Tobey tells on him!  They're almost like real kids.


Life with two puppy dogs can really be different.  I have to get up earlier to get them both out in the morning.  They kind of run around at night but not on the same schedules.  There are also twice as many paws to step on if I'm not careful.. But that's okay, I'll keep them both!  And did I mention that Ninja really likes laying in Zach's clothes and on his side of the bed.  Oh, and you know how Tobey's crate is called his "dungeon"?  Well, we've decided that Ninja's crate will be his "dojo".  We'll see if the term takes.  Anyhow, enjoy the pictures!

I normally don't borrow blogs but every now and again I take it upon myself to peruse someone else's.  Welcome to Hyperbole and a Half.  This is exactly what I think would happen to my puppy if he escaped and somehow managed to avoid getting run over by a car:  http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/04/wild-animal-simple-dog-goes-for-joy.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Hyperbole-and-a-half+%28Hyperbole-And-A-Half%29

Did I mention that only a mere half hour ago my little Tobey had the audacity to put his mouth on my cheddarwurst?!  He has never before attempted to do this.  I thought that he was a simple creature who, despite his complete lack of complexity, knew better than to eat my food, considering the fact that he is not even allowed next to us when Zach or I are eating.  Needless to say, he has been locked up ever since then, accompanied by a severe scolding, and followed-up with being completely ignored until I see fit to address the shameful creature once more.  He is still crying as though he forgot, almost instantaneously upon scolding, why he had been locked up in his very own dungeon.

So, first things first: My puppy is cute. :D I was sleeping on my side this morning and my puppy was curled up on his side using my arm as a pillow. I suddenly decided I wanted to roll over onto my back to stretch a bit, then relaxed. My little guy did the same exact thing. Still using my arm as a pillow, he flipped over onto his back, did a little stretch, then settled onto his back with his little head on my arm. SO CUTE, the little guy mimicking his mommy.

Moving on: Early this morning I had an epiphany about why 'grown-ups' go to bed earlier than all the younger lads and lasses. It was when my faux child had an accident. I randomly woke up and heard her crying/talking to herself. I thought she might just be having a nightmare or working through something in her head so I had determined to let her work through whatever it was on her own unless she came to me. After a while I noticed the sound still persisted. I went to her room to see her sitting up in bed and asked her what was wrong. She'd had an accident. I got her out of bed, put her in the bath, scrounged up a change of clothes, removed the sheets, put her back to bed on the couch (since the actual bed got wet and I was not in the mood to steam vac it at the moment), then sent a text to my husband to notify him of the small one sleeping on the couch. The text occurred at 0444. I laid awake until the hubby got home and until after he fell asleep, which was sometime after 0540, since he had to finish work, drive home, drag the mattress outside (it was too heavy for me to take out or even just flip over--not a normal mattress), and get ready for bed. Then her real mother came to pick her up earlier than my alarm went off, and I laid in bed awake some more. So the moral of this story is that 'grown-ups' go to bed ridiculously early (thus achieving their 'boring' and 'party pooper' statuses) to compensate for the time that they already know that they will loose during the night when they have to tend to their messy, sleepless, wandering, or distraught little ones. I'm a genius, I know. You may thank me later when you have children of your own and you are one of the few who gets a full nights rest because you, too, begin your boring life of going to bed early.

After having called my dog (2 years old in August) a puppy for the past year, I have decided on a new definition for puppy dog. Puppy Dog: [puhp-ee] [dawg, dog] noun: A dog that is technically a dog but is too cute and little to be called a dog. In a sentence: Puppy Dogs are cute. How much is the puppy dog in the window? *woof woof* Tobey is a puppy dog.