Stitch's Birthday

Last Sunday was a special day in our family.

Our little boy is turning one, and it’s hard to believe that he’s only been with us for a few months.

That’s how completely he’s taken over. He thinks that everyone who comes to the house is here to see him. Same for everyone who happens to be anywhere else that I take him – the dry cleaners, the bank, Lowe’s Hardware – it’s really surprising how many places are dog-friendly when you start to look around.

Other than food-service places and the cable company, nobody seems to think much about it. Maybe it’s because he’s cute. Maybe it’s because he’s not so huge that he scares people, or that he’s fairly well behaved (we’re still working on how to greet someone without jumping).

So he’s now my constant companion. He’s in the office when I’m at work, occasionally comes to the courthouse with me (although we sneak in through the back door to visit the people in the clerk’s office) and is VERY disappointed when I leave him locked in the kitchen alone.

Most of the time, if it’s not too early, Martin has come down to get him so that he and his brother Yoko can go for a walk. Then they spend a lot of the day together, often going to the park to play if the weather is good.

I understand now why parents of human children engage nannies. If a puppy can take up t

his much energy, I don’t see how anyone can get anything done with a human baby. I don’t see how the parents of multiples get anything at all done.

So things have changed during the last year. We’ve got a plastic scraper

and a squirt bottle of vinegar water sitting around most of the time, just in case of “accidents”.

Although it seems as though they are more “on purpose” than “accidents” any more.

I wish that we’d bought stock in a paper towel company. We’d be rich.

Like a little kid, it often doesn’t occur to him (or big brother Yoko, although he’s getting better) to tell someone that he’s got to go potty until it’s too late. Thus, the phrase becomes, “I have to go potty – never mind,” all being uttered before I can make it out of the chair, much less to put on my shoes and get the leash and other accessories that are required for every trip outdoors.

The other habit that we’re trying to break relates to those accidents, and this is really disgusting, is how the boy tries to hide the “evidence”, which is really hard if you don’t have hands. Or paper towels. Or cleaning fluid.

It kinda limits your options to – well, your mouth.

Let’s remember who in the house can and cannot brush their teeth.

This is one of those things that calls for parental intervention, so after a bit of research we ended up with a bottle of pills that are designed to make one’s poop taste bad.

Let’s think about that one – I don’t even want to know what is in them that could possible make sh*t taste worse than it undoubtedly already does.

Things are getting better, though, and the activity seems to be on the wane. Until we’re absolutely sure, though, we’ll stick to hugs instead of kisses.

When the reality of becoming parents of a full-time four-legged child (in addition to our foster-care of Martin’s pug-child, Yoko), we were determined not to become “those” people – the ones who talk incessantly about their dog child, gushing on and on about what little Fifi did and, of course, whipping out photographs with the least provocation.

That lasted about a week.

Days are now planned around the puppy’s needs. He doesn’t understand the concept of “weekend” and “sleeping in” although he’s happy to climb up on my lap and spend the morning there. Martin keeps him when we go out in the evening or on the weekend, or away for a few days.

But I can’t imagine what life would be like without him any more.

And you don't have to ask me twice to get me to drag out the phone full of pictures.