It's Puppy Training Time

Meet Roscoe. He's a 12.5 pounder who carries a lot of weight around here. Twenty weeks old, pretty well house-trained, exhibits the ability to move in all directions at once and is always in a perplexingly good mood. He likes his bed in the kitchen, regularly tearing it apart and arranging the parts in strange, new places. And he loves to set his water free by digging in his dish with both front paws. Water tastes better when allowed to wander free-range after all.

Roscoe prefers two old socks tied together and found sticks in the yard over expensive store-bought toys and chew bones. He politely sits to get his leash clipped on and when offered a treat. He likes rides in the car and revels in how wind streaks through his fur. And he's taken quite the shine to the aloof, stray cat who hangs out at the local vet.

He is an amiable sort who is always interested in what you have to say and will listen attentively and graciously let you talk to him about practically anything you like, especially if the topic includes the odd "woof" and "grrrr".

It's been a long time since there's been a puppy in the house. And I'd forgotten what they add to one's life. Curiosity, bouncing enthusiasm, playfulness, craziness, and how a towel magically stops being something used to dry oneself and becomes something to duck under and rassle with. I don't think I ever knew that raindrops were something that could be chased and caught before they hit the ground. And I've rediscovered that cuddle time is anytime. Oh, and kisses and hugs should be given freely and without reason, logic or limitations.

See? My training is coming along nicely. :)