New motherhood

"Mine. It's Mine."


Though I love the little lovable, too smart for his own good or mine puppy, he is playing havoc with my life. Writing-sleeping-housecleaning-interruptus. This boy has taught me the meaning of being a new mother. And at my age. Well, it will be great fodder for a book.

I kept thinking about what Leah told me about being in charge. I'm determined that I will be the boss.

Today, we tried to overcome Dusty's bad behavior to get his collar on him. CFM, big guy that he is, succumbed to Dusty's flailing by letting go and getting bitten. So after he left, Dusty and I had a talk. I managed to get the collar on him but it wasn't tight enough and of course, he ended up in a bind with it locked in his jaws.

Then we had to work through that crisis which seems to have given him some faith in my handling him. Each time he got through the traumatic process he got a treat. Maybe we're building a little respect between us. I hope so. That's one of my goals today. To get a leash on him so I don't have to chase him into the night, down the muddy hill to the bayou, or off into the Wildlife refuge where the night predators can get him.

It gives me nightmares just thinking about it.

Puppy Update

I was reading on Paperback Writer this morning about Lynn Viehl's new superdog, Cole, and realized I hadn't updated you on Dusty's progress.


Well, I went to D.C. for two weeks and missed two weeks of his puppyness. Oh, how I hate that. I came back and he had grown into a minature grown Pom and fiesty is not the word. The little idiot still sleeps through the night but his Aunt Christine spoiled him a little with some Caesar dog food in the octagonal shaped can and now Purina isn't good enough. I think he'd rather starve.

He has quite a temper which comes out when it's time to go outside. I want to get him used to a training leash because we live on the bayou and he's already showing a propensity for tearing down the hill to the bank which this Summer will probalby sport an alligator or two. Tear my heart out! Yes, he's going to get used to playing on a long leash. Not to mention the rattlesnakes and other varmits that can be hazardous to a little dog's health. But the temper doesn't come out except when he wants to play and doesn't get his way. Most of the time he just plays, entertaining himself with the house full of toys which have turned this into BABY ZONE!


CFM said he sometimes wishes he hadn't answered that ad in December. But he also said he missed us a LOT when we were gone for two weeks. Yes, puppies, like babies are tremendously time consuming. I never had a baby so now I can definitely relate to everything I've heard. And my favorite time of day lately has been Dusty's nap time.

Sometimes you see it coming.










And sometimes all you see is the crash...



look at his cute little feet. I swear the thing that grew the most on him were his nose and feet.

I'd also like to say - Congratulations to my friend Leah Braemel for hitting the number one spot three days after her book, Private Property, debued on Samhain.

Paperback Writer: Writing with Pets

Paperback Writer: Writing with Pets

Puppy talk

Last week I introduced the newest member of the family, er, whatshisname? No, I haven't made the decision. I've called him Max, and Dusty, and Too Cute, and MiniBear, Meekins, Cujo, Simba, Smokey, and Dusty (which is CFMs choice). Then at Cadence's dress shop a lady bent down to get puppy love and said he looks like Sebastien to me. Hmm, I'd wanted a literary name of some kind and he has turned around when I called him Sebastien, but it's a lot of name for 1 lb dog. Speaking of a lot of name, while we were at the vets they reminded me that since he's registered he will need three names. So here's the latest attempt
Prince Sebastien Maximillian von Boggy Bayou, And we'd call him Dusty?
Then the girl at the pizza shop mentioned Oliver. I really like Oliver for him, but as soon as I mentioned calling him Oliver, CFM started bringing up those stupid names - Bob, Tony, Coty. The finalists are Sebastien, Bear, Oliver, Dusty, Smoky, Mac, Wolfy, and Prince.





Hey, kid, you're not supposed to lift your leg for months!












GOT MILK?

I've been following him around this morning with a camera to see what it's like at his level. At one point I caught him in his Daddy's shoe and when I started taking his picture he backup at warp speed dragging his shoe and his Christmas toy into his lair beneath the coffee table.




I was telling Leah about his temper tantrums. If I pick him up outside and try to bring him inside before he's ready, he throws a fit, knashing his teeth like the little werewolf lookalike he is. I've started carrying him to his box and ignoring him when he does that, but he's so pitiful and looks so hurt that I can't leave him for long.

He has his own brand of perfect communication, besides the tantrums, which every mother understands. "I want my way, now!" CFM says if he's whining he wants one of four things, to pee, to poop, to eat, to sleep. Sound like any little humans you know?

And after only a week of being weened he's using the newspaper 80% of the time, at 6 1/2 weeks old! I'm so impressed.

Unfortunately, after working next week and my trip to D.C. next month when he's in CFM's hands he'll probably have to be retrained. I doubt that he is going to be chasing him around and catching him in the act to redefine his habits.

Hey I'll settle for just making sure he doesn't eat a rock or catch some dread disease.