Another Addition to the Family

I really can’t say it was planned, nor was it a complete surprise. Like many other couples, we decided just to leave it up to fate and let the Universe decide for us.

We already had co-parenting duties with Yoko the Magnificent, and that seemed to be going OK. He had his first birthday on Saturday and we were at the stage many other parents find themselves – we’d forgotten the horrors of those first nights and reveled in the cuddling and playing and that sweet, freshly-washed smell they have.  Another might not be so bad.

So if fate chose to hand us a second, we were open to the idea. We weren’t exactly trying, but we weren’t being all that careful, either. We were registered on sites. We cruised newspaper ads and craigslist for possibilities.

Then last Saturday we received a call – a 10 week old boy from the Ukraine was available. All we had to do was go and meet him to make sure it was a good match. All of the sudden, it was happening.

We were adopting a second baby, this time from a foreign country.

Thus, a dark red French Bulldog puppy came to live in our house over the weekend.

It was a family affair – Martin and Yoko went along on the trip to pick him up as well, since everyone needed to get along and there could be decisions – there were three from which to choose and we wanted to make sure that everyone had a vote.

I’ve never had to pick a puppy from a litter before. There were 8 possibilities, including “Peanut”, who was about four months old and absolutely adorable. Only 3 were males, though, and we’d decided it would be best to keep to the “No Gurls” rule in the house.

In the past when I’ve acquired a furry child, there’ve been no choices involved. Either there was only one available (as with Yoko), or it was predetermined by someone else as to which child was coming home with me (as with Bull). The fact that I want to bring them all home to live with me is one of the reasons that I simply cannot go to the animal shelter, even when I had to work with that department in local government. I’d be torn up for weeks on end, knowing that my failure to bring a particular pet home probably resulted in something unspeakable happening.

I have no doubt that the puppies left behind will find good homes, though, and that they are loved and cared for by the people who have them now.

Although we’re not absolutely settled on the name, Chynko seems to be the leader. He had to have at least a temporary name, because he had to go to the Puppyatrician first thing on Monday for a wellness check, something he didn’t appreciate at all.  Apparently nobody likes to have their temperature taken "the baby way".

We were a bit worried, too, since he was all but comatose for the rest of the day after that. Apparently vaccinations take a lot out of you. That wore off about bedtime, though, when he perked up considerably and decided that the day was starting and he wanted to play.

The only downside so far, other than trying to re-puppyproof the house is that Yoko has not been especially thrilled to have a baby brother.

Who’da thunk that a Pug can turn into a green-eyed jealous monster? He is, to say the least, not sure that he’s happy with this creature who’s arrived.

His reaction the second morning as he came bouncing into the room like he normally does was, “He’s still HERE???”  It's as if a distant relative came to visit for Thanksgiving and was still in the guest room after the New Year had started.

We seem to be working toward an armed truce, if not out-and-out friendship. When you’ve been the only dog for a year, it’s not all that great to get a little brother – anyone who’s ever HAD a younger sibling knows that you’d really they just went back wherever they came sometimes, and what on earth were the parental units thinking when they didn’t realize they already had perfection in ME! (Sorry, Michael and Steven!)

So we’re blending our family and, as anyone who’s ever tried to do that knows, there are both tears and laughter. And I’m sure I’ll write about it more, although our goal is to keep from becoming “those” people who talk incessantly about the dogs.

But for right now, I have to go rescue my bedroom slippers.

First Walk -- or maybe it should be called a "Carry"