It's a Magic Number ...

Seven months ... seven months since my last post.   In seven months, our lives have changed in very happy ... very hairy ... ways.

On June 1st, our corgi ... a Pembroke Welsh Corgi ... was born!   We'd been on a waiting list for a specific litter for over a year and a half ... and expected not to get the call until sometime in the late fall.   But our little ball of fluff and furry came home on July 28th ... and as the song says ... three is a magic number.

I'm not going to lie to you ... the first couple weeks were hard.  The first two nights he didn't sleep ... he howled and cried.   He hated the pen we'd specially bought and put in the kitchen for him.  He dumped his water bowl onto his bedding.  He basically made sure no one in the house slept.

On the third morning, he had his first vet appointment.  The vet explained that our tiny, little man needed to be in a crate in the same room we slept in.  He needed to hear us breathing and snoring in order to feel close to us.   We needed to put a blanket or towel over the crate and say good night each evening and pull the blanket down so that he would feel safe and "enclosed."

And would you believe ... he has slept through the night from that day to this.

We had some hard times getting him house trained ... and at six months he still has accidents now and then.   He likes to chew on mats ... not shoes so much ... but mats?  Fuck those things!  And feet?  Jesus Christ ... it's like feet are his sworn enemy.   Socks, therefore, are enemies simply by their daily proximity to FEET!   He's learned not to bite feet (for the most part) ... but socks?  If they are off your body and not at least three feet off the ground?  Consider them a lost cause.

Everyone told us that corgis all shed terribly.  For the first six months,  we both dispelled those notions daily.  "Not OUR puppy ... we don't have a single stray hair in our house!"   They all told us to wait and see.   And it was as though, on his six month birthday, the shedding fairy came down from the firmament and said, "Now ... it begins."

And just like that ... our puppy became some kind of Corgi/PufferFish amalgam.  At this point, he can stand on a set of flannel sheets that have just been put on the bed, flex, wag his tail, and a cloud of Pembroke fur surrounds him and settles to the bed like some kind of Paw Patrol police line.  It's both extremely frustrating and, I must admit, a little impressive.  I'm not sure how he doesn't look like Dr. Evil's cat at this point.  I full expect to come home to find Stoney, sitting in his recliner, petting a hairless corgi and saying, "One miiiiiiiiiillion dollars!"

And while I think the whole dog thing was a 50/50 choice since we both dearly wanted a dog ... the corgi option was clearly my preference.   Stoney just wanted something to love ... I wanted to walk through the neighborhood like the Queen of England.

In the end, Stoney got what he wanted though ... because our little man adores him.   Don't get me wrong our pup loves me.  But he loves Stoney.  They always say a dog really bonds with one person ... and that person is not me.   It's understandable though.   I'm not a very active person and Stoney loves to take walks.  Guess who else loves to take walks?   You guessed it.  Most weekend mornings, my two favorite men have usually gone for a walk around the neighborhood, and sometimes surrounding neighborhoods, before I'm even out of bed.

In the end, we're a happier (if a slightly messier) family.   We used to have a very neat home.  Now we have dog toys strewn about the house as if a short, slobbery toddler lives here ... we have puppy pads behind the table on the kitchen tiles (just in case) ... and a corner of our kitchen counter which is now full of every imaginable dog treat sold in the United States.  Now that I think about it ... the last two treat bags in our Bark Box looked Scandinavian ... sigh.  He even has a real deer antler that his very own SantaPaws brought him from Virden on Sunday!   (Thank you, College One and Mr. College One  ... more on Christmas later!)

And so I'll wrap this up by saying ... three is a magic number!

Until I can convince Stoney to make it four.

Somewhere in the ancient mystic trinity
You get three as a magic number
The past and the present and the future
The faith and hope and charity
The heart and the brain and the body
Give you three as a magic number

Schoolhouse Rock - Three Is a Magic Number