I’ve raised two puppies so far, Gentle Reader, from 8-12 weeks old to 13 and 5 years, respectively. And you forget, God, you forget, about the early mornings, the late nights, the hard play, the lack of quiet. But the puppy snuggles are worth it.
Zoe Pryde is teething, so that means her teeth are on everything, especially her favorite chew toy: me. I hate yelling or fussing at her, but I need to because she bites me all the time. Occasionally, I get snuggles. Mostly, I get nibbles.
She’s also still a food gobbler, so we’re trying to cure those food insecurities. We got her a Kong bowl that has spacers in it to spread out the food and make her work at it. That’s helping. We take the food away from her, play with her ears and feet as she’s eating, pull her tail, all the things that helped with Harley and Moxie.
But I guess I forget also how long it takes. She’s smart, she’s really smart, so after Moxie (dumb but super sweet) it’s a nice change. She brings toys to her toy box to swap out for new ones. She goes to the front door when she wants to go outside and she’s not in the crate, she’s already figured out fetch and come mostly. But still, she’s a puppy. Adorable, too, which also helps. But puppy.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 