Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

The Super Mutt and His Sister

Saturday afternoon we picked up Chuck from Jon’s mom’s house where he had been staying since we left for the hospital five days earlier. It was the first time I’d left the house since returning home from the hospital, and it will be the last time I can say I saw the outside of my own home for at least the next six years.

It took us over an hour to prepare to leave the house, stuffing everything we thought we might need into one tiny diaper bag. “Everything we might need” included shaving cream, conditioner, three medical journals on the first year of a baby’s life, two rolls of toilet paper, all seven of my prescription drug medications, and no less than seven changes of clothes for the baby, all for what would end up being two whole hours away from home. After that experience I am forced to wonder why I would ever want to leave my house again.

I had remembered my 35 pound Super Mutt as being a somewhat lithe, gentle creature, very tiny in his 35 pound frame, but when I opened the door and he came running to greet me, I was confronted with a bounding tub of fur! and fangs! and my god that snout is HUGE! I’d gotten so used to holding a little over seven pounds of soft, fur-less human that I couldn’t help but look at my dog as some sort of wild beast with SO. MUCH. FUR. It didn’t help that Grandma’s house served as a five day all you can eat buffet of treats and pigs ears and what else, Grandma? Popcorn. And? And toast. And? And apples. And? Ok, fine, and bacon grease.

We introduced Leta to Chuck in Grandma’s living room, a somewhat neutral space where Chuck wouldn’t have the instinct to protect his property. And from the rabid tail-wagging and drooling you could tell that Chuck thought she was some sort of enormous treat swaddled in yummy pink velvet. He couldn’t sniff her head or face enough, and he kept looking at Jon and me like, This is for me? The whole thing?

I’d have to say that he’s done remarkably well with the presence of the baby especially considering the fact that our daily outings to Danger Park have come to an abrupt halt. If anything, he’s become more attached to me and is less likely to leave the room when I enter it. He’s utterly fascinated with Leta’s high pitched coos, and whenever she makes a sudden noise he sits up straight, sticks his ears to the sky, and looks at me like, You better not be hurting that treat!

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