Fluffzilla

It is a normal occurrence to receive a cute picture of a litter of pups the Hubby is working on during the day. I love getting these since all I see are feet and lets face it…feet aren’t cute. Typically I respond with an “awe…can we have one” and get a “no way!” in response. I don’t actually want or need a puppy in my life, so this is more a ritual than a true asking. Unless it was a basset hound. Then that sucker would be mine…all mine!!! Dusty is smart enough never to show me a litter of bassets though and I’ve come to terms with the fact that a basset hound would not fit our lifestyle one bit and will have to wait until we sell the farm and move back to suburbia 20 years from now. Sigh.

Anyway.

When I arrived at the vet hospital for Eeyore Friday, I was met with an onslaught of texts from the Hubby showing off a litter of standard poodle pups. Only this time it was followed by him asking me if we could take the only one that didn’t have a home yet. Uh..what world am I living in? Beyond Einstein, Hubby has never asked for a pup in the 16 years I have known him. All our animals are my doing. I was shocked.

What could I say? I mean, a) puppy and b) this was the hubby asking. If he was asking, he must really really want this pup, so I said sure thinking surely this was a joke.

But I was wrong. Next thing I knew we were scheduling a time to go meet the pup on Sunday at the obscene hour of 9 am. I knew the Hubby was excited if he was planning on wrangling all four of us out of the house on a Sunday morning that early. I’m always up by 7 am but Sundays are my lazy days and I usually stay in my pjs until lunch when I have to get clothes on to grocery shop.

Instead I was marched out of the house on a cold, foggy morning and off to meet the pup. Dusty knows the breeders well as they are clients of his and he has known the mom and dad of the littler for a few years. He adores them and knew any pups from them would fit in with our clan and lifestyle/dog owner style well.

Of course once we put a puppy in the arms of the 7 year old, it was game over. I did get to meet the mom who was lovely and the dad who was fun and energetic. I’d be happy if the pup ended up with either personality or a combination of both.

His name was Cracker Jack after a Dolly Parton song about a loyal dog, but Wyatt immediately declared him Fluffzilla – a combination of Fluffy and Godzilla – so Fluffzilla it is.

So far his is proving to be quite the little pup. He is brave and bold, friendly and inquisitive. He loves being outside more than in, has gotten along well with our other two and the cats haven’t hissed yet though give them time. He isn’t wild and crazy though and loves a good cuddle. He hasn’t had an accident inside yet, though we are pretty insane about the going outside schedule and take him out every 15 minutes while awake and every 4 hours overnight.

He is sleeping on Wyatt’s bed and snuggles in and lays still until I wake him up at 1 am to go outside and then quickly snuggles again. We are trying to crate train him as I believe every dog should know how to nicely be in a crate if for no other times than when needing to be hospitalized, but he doesn’t like it and cries. Wyatt then sneaks in and removes him from his “prison” so we are trying to crate train both of them. He makes no sound except when in his crate and since I despise barky dogs, this make me very happy indeed.

If he stays true to his parents and his breed, he should fit perfectly. Did we need a third dog? Heck no! Was I in the market for a third dog? No way. The hubby was feeling a bit sad though that Waggy Tails is unable to meet the demands her 7 year old best friend has been putting on her lately. He wants to play with his dog. He wants to throw a ball, play tug and run around. He wants to set up an obstacle course and run through it with his dog. And well, thanks to the accident, Waggy can’t do those things. She tries. She wants to, but after a day of playing she hurts and is down for several.

Getting a dog to play with Wyatt will not only make Wyatt happy, but it will take the strain off Waggy and hopefully keep her more comfortable long term. It absolutely breaks my heart to see her hurting and know it is my fault but I can’t change the past so I am moving on and dealing with it. And Einstein? He doesn’t play. He is sweet and I love my little brown dog, but he is an independent sort and is out of sight the moment the door opens until you call him back inside and then he curls up next to you. He doesn’t play though and pretty much ignores Wyatt.

Anyway…welcome to the family Fluffzilla!