Puppy, Day Two

 

Yes.  I took her bell ringing last night.

It was at South Desuetude whose access stair only looks feasible from a puppy-hauling point of view to someone who regularly rings at the abbey.  Southdowner*, whose silly idea taking her ringing was in the first place, suggested that I take her out of the crate and carry her up separately.  I want to believe I would have thought of this myself** but I didn’t have to.  I’m not sure I literally could get the crate around that spiral with a puppy in it. When she grows too heavy to carry under one arm (soon) I’ll have to make two trips.***  Glaciation—Colin’s band swap between the two (ahem) towers—is a nice roomy ground floor ring however.†

We played Pass the Puppy while the pre-ring gossip went on†† and then for the first touch Colin let me sit out with a puppy in my lap.  Pavlova didn’t so much as flinch when six bells pulled off, although she did try to bury her ears under my arm.  And she curled up in her crate for the rest of the evening with every indication of nonchalance.

Today Fiona came down to examine the new addition and I said YAAAAAY and thrust a puppy in a bag††† at her and all five of us went for a (slow) hurtle, which involved a lot of Chaos!  NO! as he kept bouncing off Fiona to investigate the contents of the bag.  This afternoon, however, I hung Pavlova round my own neck and Fiona and I had a hellhound-free  stroll‡ around Mauncester as today’s chapter in Expose the Puppy to More Stuff.

And tomorrow . . . I’m sure I’ll think of something.

She’s bigger than she was yesterday.

 

The tail is always wagging. I know this doesn’t necessarily mean a happy dog, but it does in her case. She thinks the world is just fabulous. Even if the hellhounds won’t play with her (yet).

 

I realise I’m besotted but I think this is hilarious. I’m taking no-flash photos in ordinary indoor light and my camera can do only so much. This is a puppy shaking a dangerous toy to submission.

 

I’ve bagged a puppy.

 

The view from above. AWWWWWWWWW. TOO CUTE.

 

* Olivia, for some inexplicable reason, does not ring.

** But I am very short of sleep.  It took hellhounds an hour and a half to eat^ their supper Sunday night, and last night . . . she barked.  I’m telling myself that a lot of puppies go through this phase.

^ One of my big stress points is the likelihood that Presence of Puppy would put hellhounds off their food.  Yes.+  We’re still just about holding our own but . . . SSSSTTTRRRREEEEEESSSSSSSSSS.  We also had a loooong puppy-free sofa this afternoon in the interests of hellhound reassurance and knitting.  Pavlova is really cutting in to my knitting time.

+ Is the Pope Catholic.

*** Unfortunately she’ll probably outgrow this crate before she’s old and sober enough to lie down and stay there.  There are dogs that accompany their bell ringing humans to bell ringing.  But I’ve never heard of a bull terrier.

Although this Will Do Anything for Food is SO EXCITING.  There are obviously glimmers going on in that puppy brain that peeing and crapping produce delightful rewards and I think she’s beginning to suspect that bum on floor = cheese if she hears ‘sit’.^

^ Southdowner and Olivia have told me six hundred million times that bullies are tough to train:  what an ordinary dog needs fifteen or twenty repetitions to catch on to, a bullie needs fifteen or twenty hundred.  Piffle.  It took Chaos four years to learn to lift his feet to have his harness put on.  At least you can get a bullie’s attention because they’re INTERESTED in that piece of cheese in your hand.  Of course then you have to convince them that they have to do something before they get the cheese.  We’re working on this.

† So she can keep coming to Glaciation in her next crate.

†† I was extremely amused that one of the blokes whom I would not expect to be soppy about puppies . . . was soppy about this puppy.  Although he declined to carry her downstairs after practise.  Hey, it’s downstairs.  Never mind.  Although I got frelling STUCK at the bottom when the frelling crate managed to wedge itself fast.  ARRRRGH.  My extremely well-handled and well-socialised puppy, however, just dangled from my other arm in a blithe and carefree way while I wrestled with the beastly thing.

††† I still haven’t made it to the vet’s to find out how soon she can get her final jabs, so I can take her for hurtles.  I think it’s a fortnight.  Pleeeeeeez that it’s only a fortnight.  I had hellhounds indoors for AN ENTIRE MONTH and I was conspicuously more crazy at the end of this stint than I had been before.  And no, I have never recovered.  Beware of People Who Have Raised Lots of Puppies.^

^ Kittens are just as big a time sink but I believe they’re less labour-intensive.

‡ I think Fiona might have considered it more of a hurtle.  Her legs are a good deal shorter than mine.  And I’m used to hellhounds.