oh sleep how i miss thee

Let nobody fool you into thinking that owning a puppy is all fun and games. It isn't. It's lack of sleep, energy, and eventually patience.

Second night down. It hasn't gotten any better. I sit at work on Monday morning and stare at my computer screen without really seeing anything, I answer the phone without really hearing the caller. I am devoid of energy, and it's showing. My boss asked me if I wanted to take the next day off and I gladly accepted, though as we're on a sort of summer siesta at work currently, I'd be doing more work at home with the dogs than here. Nor would I be able to sleep in ... but it was an opportunity to train Preston so I jumped at it.

I aimed to crate-train him, so that I might actually sleep for more than a few minutes Tuesday night, but eventually we just ended up lying on towels on the front lawn and sleeping. I was too exhausted to focus.

Preston got along well with my other dogs, Brittain and Hemi, Hemi actually playing with him instead of just growling all the time as she has been wont to do. Preston discovered that he can bring his water bowl to where we were lying instead of having to go across the lawn everytime he wanted a drink, so he did just that. He then wondered why there was no water left in it.

By the time dinner rolled around, Preston was still less than enamoured with his crate so I decided to bite the bullet and put him in bed with me. Maybe, just maybe, he would wake up, be content with his sleeping spot, and go back to sleep without peeing on my pillow.

Oh I spoil him.

a date with the devil

I saw an ad for Boston Terrier puppies on kijiji. One finger click and a quick page-load later I was caught, hook, line and sinker and pursuading my mum to "lemme have oneee-uhh!" We already owned a Boxer and a Lab/who-the-heck-knows mix, and the house was feeling a bit full. Once I had her 80% convinced, I set to work on my dad and within a few hours I was hopping back to my computer to get the breeder's phone number.

I called the next morning (Saturday, August 25) and heard "Oui, bonjour?" Crap. My french is good to a point, but I have never discussed buying a dog in the language and I didn't want to make any mistakes. "Euh, oui ... as-tu un petit chiot qui est un garçon??" Yeah, no. I got my dad on the phone and he wrote down directions to the breeder's house and we were assured that there was still a little boy available.

I was extremely hyped by this time, and was SURE I was about to meet my new puppy. I convinced my mum, through cajoling, whining, face-scrunching and knee-quaking that she just HAD to come with me so that she could drive home while I held the new puppy in my lap.

We set out and arrived at our destination an hour and a half later. We walked up the driveway and up some rickety stone steps and saw a man and a woman outside the house. I approached them self-consciously, mentally practicing what I would say, and then, in French, told them my name and said I was here about the puppy. To which I received "what puppy?" -a slight bit of heart-stoppage until- "only joking!" (phew!)

We went inside and were met with the CUTEST little thing on four legs. No fear, no manners, no attention span, he was exactly what I envisioned. What I wanted. 8 weeks old and rarin' to go! We discussed his cuteness and overall qualities, we saw his mother briefly (this was a very different experience from buying our boxer, which was a thorough FBI investigation lie-detector testing) and then I handed over the money and he was MINE! All miiiiiiiine.



I tried to carry him cooly to the car as he wriggled and threatened to do a triple salchow and land not-so-gracefully on the pavement, finally I was able to sit down and hold him on my lap as my mum pulled away. I was actually quite impressed with his bladder skills, he held it in the whole way home, even though I dutifully took a pit stop at a nice little park in the pouring rain while he dashed around, attempting to escape under some bushes, but not peeing. So, drenched but smiling, we carried on home, getting lost only three times, and eventually making it back to our little town. The rain had stopped by now so my mum dropped me off at the park, and went home to get our two other dogs so they could meet on neutral ground.

This went well, they only knocked him over five times, and each time he leapt right back up and inserted himself in the middle again. Good boy. These are the big leagues now!



We walked back home and let him run around a bit on the wood floors (not the carpet, never the carpet!). When bed time came, we put him in his box (the crate hadn't been set up yet) and attempted to go to sleep while he screamed bloody murder at the injustice of it all. I was startled awake every hour on the hour when the little dumpling himself awoke and realized, "NO! I'M STILL IN THIS BOX!" He certainly didn't need to pee, though he manfully did when I stumbled blindly out the door with him precariously in my arms, and put him on the grass.

Ahh what a night. But I got my puppy!