puppies

Puppies who are not mine, and puppies who are.

I don’t know if all breeders feel this way, but from pretty early on I know which puppies aren’t mine. It’s one of the (many) reasons I will never be a good show breeder, because I pick up puppies and say “You are the best in the litter. And you don’t belong to me.”

I just ADORE these puppies that are in my house right now. They’re the sweetest babies I’ve ever had. And as much as I will always love them, I know they’re not mine.

Clue is mine. She came off the plane from Arkansas as the kids’ puppy, and by the time we got home in the car she was absolutely mine. I have always worked overnights from home, and Clue’s growing-up years were spent on my feet as I typed. That was always her spot, until she got so mature that she switched to the couch in order to lord it over everyone.

My feet were cold for a while there, until Friday realized that I stayed up late. Friday is really Doug’s dog, always has been, but she’s a gossipy girl and she will curl up under my heels to talk to me at night. But it’s spring now, which means she’s got duties elsewhere involving all the farm-type jobs she’s given herself. She thinks she needs to watch the chickens sleep at night.

Juno can’t be bothered with feet or blankets or anything not involving a ball or something to chew or something to herd. She’s never been cuddly. Even asleep, she concentrates so hard she vibrates as she breathes.

Daisy Poppy is a bed dog. She’s got no use for me when she can be luxuriantly stretched out on a space-age mattress against a kid.

So here I am, with chilly toes. Until this evening when I went to check on puppies one last time and Milo would not leave me alone. Everywhere I walked, he walked next to me and would plant himself in front of me and stare at me. Finally I got the hint and brought him in the bedroom.

He spent many minutes sniffing all around everywhere, at all the dog beds and blankets, at the bed itself, he went over to give his mom a kiss… and then he left her and came over and flopped himself on my feet. When I move, he yawns and then pushes himself further onto me. My dog.

My extremely hairy dog.

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4 Comments

  • Reply Sarah April 9, 2012 at 6:30 am

    Yes, it is so true. I certainly did not need another blue boy when Ianto came along, but I sold the best bitch to a good friend who did awesome by her and kept what my heart called for. Since he is now my service dog I think it was the right call. 🙂

  • Reply Jeri April 9, 2012 at 11:36 am

    Yes, I’m not sure what I would have done if Nash hadn’t turned out to be show quality. I was pretty sure very early on that he was the one we wanted, although it wasn’t quite as overt as Milo is being. And I was quite right…there are dogs you should keep, and dogs you need to keep. They aren’t always the same one.

  • Reply Priscilla Petty Babbitt April 11, 2012 at 1:26 pm

    That’s a good thing 🙂

  • Reply Priscilla Petty Babbitt April 11, 2012 at 1:26 pm

    That’s a good thing 🙂

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