Last night my puppy ran around the house like a jet ski without a rider. He circled the kitchen island clockwise four times followed by the same number counter clockwise. It was as if he were trying to send me a message.
The established Vet did mention that “they will try to communicate with you as they mature, oh and do grab the latest video in the lobby on New Pup Parents, only one left”…
I did happen to recognize the subtle hints from my dog when it came time to relieve himself. He now runs to the sliding glass door and stares fondly at the grass, or he runs to the front door and looks up at you with his Big Eyes floating. I get this now, I’m in tune with the pupster, we are one.. Grasshopper. It is a masterful feeling to be able to communicate with a three month old puppy. I feel so whole in side. It completes me. It completes me up until he’s running frantically around the house like a plane circling Kennedy Airport.
I gave a command to stop and he did. For two seconds. Then he continued running. He ran to every room on the first level of this house passing every individual that tried to catch him. He was slick, fast and as agile as the performers in Circ-du-Soleil. It was a game of “chase me, Tag- your it, hide and seek red light green light, and ending with Twister”. I hadn’t seen him go this crazy before and I immediately thought something was terribly wrong.
I picked him up in my arms and looked into those Big round eyes and said: “What, what Lassie, Is Timmy stuck in the well again?”. His bobble head rolled up at me with his cold snout pointing toward my chin and he looked as though he wanted to speak. He just glared at me and licked my face letting me know nothing is wrong and, well, we don’t own a well. Just a septic tank, and if Timmy were there, well then…batten down the hatches, there’s no saving that little stinker. He’s dog gone as far as I’m concerned and I’m not replicating a scene from Slum Dog Millionaire.
My pup appeared to be just fine so I put him down. Mario Andretti resumed his race around the island after his pit stop in my arms. Obviously he is in his own puppy world competing in the Indy 500 with pretend puppies. What…my daughter had pretend playmates before her brother was born. Perfectly normal. I’ll take this up with the EV (established vet) on my next shopping, er..appointment.
It’s one thing if they want to run around in in their own house; it’s another thing if they run, jump and hump.
Our neighbor visited last night and she got to be privy to our new pups behavior. She happens to be a gorgeous blond in her early thirties with Big Round Blue Eyes. Just as she planted her size zero tuschie on our sofa, Charly-dog zereo’d in on her designer jeans. There must have been something about the erect pleat protruding from her stonewashed denim that caught his Big Eye. He was all over her leg like a cheap suit. Getting busy, doing the nasty, baggin’ some ba-dink-a-dink.
Needless to say I was humiliated and reprimanded the dog, I told him to “get down”, which he took as slang for “more busy..”..
My neighbor is a very classy sport. She was a dog owner and had experience in dealing with this: She asked him if he wanted a bone.
That Scally brought the sexy back with a Shawty Shero, What a Shizzle…..until he was Smacked-down. “Good Dawggie……….”
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