Ok, so somehow it’s been a week since my last legitimate blog post, that wasn’t about my lack of proper boob-dressage or a puppy picture…
In the last week, I’ve fallen madly in love with our little furface. It’s hard to describe the transformation that he’s brought into our home. He’s ridiculously cute, sassy, and can be a total pain in the ass at times.
Last Friday, we finally got to load him in the car and take him home. I expected crying, howling, possibly throwing up… I got none of the above. He crawled from his car crate into my lap, and lay there panting calmly for the fifteen minute ride home. From there, he tentatively explored his new home, taking everything in, playing with each toy for a few minutes and deciding that the Christmas tree was his mortal enemy and must be taught a lesson.
Time has completely flown since then, in a blur of days and nights that I’m having trouble keeping straight. For the most part, he’s doing really well with sleeping for at least 5 hours during the night before crying to go out. He’s also decided that when Army Boy gets up for the day, it’s time for him to get up as well. That means he’s ready to play and eat breakfast at 5am, and Mommy is up with him. Quite a change from my usual leisurely mornings at 7am.
Our parents came over to meet him his first weekend home, and my parents fell in love with their first “grandbaby.” They’ve been amazing, offering both moral support and the physical support of going to check on him so I don’t have to make the drive home from work over lunch on some days.
Leaving him to go to work was absolutely miserable the first day- I was a wreck with worry. Would he cry? Poo everywhere? Get sick? Fortunately, when my dad arrived he was curled up sleeping in his bed, and hadn’t even used the puppy pad we left out for him. In short? He was fabulous. (And a genius, because he totally barked at the phone when I called to check in and Mom put me on speakerphone. Is there Mensa for dogs? Note to self: Look into that.)
He’s a little fluffy hurricane that has turned our schedules and lives upside down, and I’d be lying if I said we weren’t a little zombie-licious right now. As we approach the week mark, we’re getting some semblance of a Schedule, which will hopefully make me feel a little more human (and a little less BITCHY)(What? Who said that?! I’d never be BITCHY)(Yes I would)(“I HAVE THE OVEN OPEN! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE HOLDING THE DOG! HE’S A BEAGLE, NOT A DRAFT HORSE!”)(I’m charming.)
Army Boy, to his credit, has not only handled my bitchitude but is surviving the trial-by-fire of his first puppy. Who, while achingly adorable, is teething.
On the bright side? My ovaries that used to be crying ‘Baby! Have one!’ are now hiding and shivering in a dark cavern somewhere. That’ll teach them.
And somehow, Christmas is 9 days away!! Due to my true talent at online shopping, the gifts have all arrived except for 2 special deliveries and all they need is to be wrapped. I’m so glad that we got the tree prior to His Peepantsness coming home, and got to enjoy it before it became a member of Puppy Fight Club. Though apparently I suck at interior illumination, as Wesley uses every opportunity to try to remove the lights from said tree. Idn’t he special.
I’m off to go enjoy some eggnog (non-spiked, because booze would put me right to sleep) and try to wrap some presents.