You know it was just a matter of time. It was only two months ago that I lost Molly, and as a sort of therapy, I have been walking dogs at the Abandoned Pet Rescue ever since. Last week I noticed, for the first time, a cute little puppy that had been kept in the small dog room. His name is Chandler, and he is not a small dog. He will eventually grow to be about fifty pounds.
Today I took him home, and ever since early this afternoon, I have been covered in dog spit. My hands, arms, and ankles are covered with tiny punctures made by puppy teeth. I have already had to mop up a puddle of pee, and all Molly's old toys are spread out across the living room. Poor Carlotta kitty has been hiding under the bed for the last few hours, not even thinking of tormenting Fat Kitty. She just wants this little terror to go away.
I had forgotten how Molly was when she was a puppy, but Chandler has caused the memories to come flooding back. Non-stop energy, running around the house chewing on everything possible and running me ragged. Unfortunately, he is not house broken but I am working on that already. Just a few minutes ago he stopped playing and a wistful look came over him. I immediately grabbed him, showed him to the door, and he went out and peed. It seems that he is smart enough. My only worry is that I have not seen him poop yet. That is nine hours without pooping, and the clock is ticking. Oh well, I'm ready. I have plenty of paper towels and spray cleaner. That first poop is probably going to be quite a load, and I'm just waiting for the wailing and screaming when Mark steps in it.