Beyond Cute!

Ohhhh…so cute!

(Click on the image for the full dose of cuteness.)

We’ve found the newspaper recycling basket, and we think it’s an extremely cool place to hang out. Adorable, eh?

Right now she’s harassing Her Stratospheric Majesty, who in spite of an occasional testy moment is amazingly patient with the little pest. They’re having a horrible fake “fight” just this minute, very funny.

Since we switched to the new feed recommended by the holistic vet we tracked down, Pup has begun to put on substance. She was pretty frail, being the runt of the litter, much tinier than her little brothers and sisters and really very delicate. She’s now developing some vigor and spunk, and she’s utterly unafraid of the Queen of the Universe and Empress of All Time, Space, and Eternity. She’ll call the Royal Bluff at the drop of a growl.

After she damn near drowned in the pool…omg! Did I report that here? I’ve got another site on a Corgi board where most of the puppy antic stories are going.

Well, the other day we’re sitting out there and pup is roaming around the yard. I look up and see she’s managed to weasel her way through the barricade I put up to keep Charley the Golden Retriever away from the shrubbery-clogged deep end of the pool. Uh oh…there’s a reason I don’t want the dogs down there.

I slip off my shoes and start to walk around the shallow end toward her, hoping to call her to me before she can fall in — she’s now toddling along the very, very narrow strip of Kool-Dek on the far side of the pool. Too goddamn late. Before I can reach her, she topples into the drink!

She’s now as far from me as she can get and floundering in the very deepest part of the pool — which is 8 or 10 feet deep, farther down than I can swim.

I run around the shallow end to reach the deep end and throw myself in, fully clothed. My foot slips as I jump and I land in the water with a belly-flop, creating a tsunami that swamps the puppy. She starts to go down. I manage to get to her just as she’s getting one helluva snootful, grab her by the leg, and lift her head above the water.

We make it out of the drink. I’m shivering. She’s shivering. Bluejeans are very heavy when they’re wet.

I wrap her in a kitchen towel long enough to pull off the soggy clothes. Then run her to the bathroom, wrap her in a bath towel, pull a space heater out of a closet and plug it in, and wipe her dry in front of the thing.

This, as it develops, is not very difficult: puppy coats are not what you’d call very substantial.

Luckily, the water is not very cold — weather has been in the high 80s and really, a person could go swimming right now, if a person were brave enough or stupid enough.

Now on an endless QV, I realized another Animal Barricade Contraption was needed. Hence, the following:

This contraption is built from three-foot lengths of (relatively) inexpensive garden border fencelets, made of wood. They’re flipped upside-down and strapped together with UV-resistant plastic zip-ties, and then roped to the patio upright, a chair, and the metal bordering around the poolside flowerbed. Cost is nominal, especially compared to the metal equivalent. They’re low enough that I can step over them without risking disaster, but high enough that neither dog is willing to try jumping over them.

Heh. My house: Home of the Eccentric Innovation.

Anyway, Pup is OK. She’s going strong, except for having been set back a bit in her house-training project. She’s reverted to Stealth Peeing, a strategy at which she is very, very effective. I didn’t know it was possible to pee by mental telepathy. This dog can be on one end of a room and cause a puddle to materialize all the way over on the other end of the room. It’s weird.