Meeting the Canine Godchildren
After posting last night, we visited Alex and April and their eight-week-old boxer puppies.
The dogs arrived the day after we moved, so while we've been (not) unpacking, they've been cleaning up behind the puppies, who haven't yet remembered to crap on the plastic left out for them rather than, say, the cushions Alex and April have laid out for them to sleep atop. The dogs excrete something every four hours and Alex seemed exhausted from having to deal with all this cleaning. Anna's views on this are known. We got to see Alex and April in action because after an ice cream run, we returned to find both urine and something that was either shit or vomit. My vote is actually vomit because it didn't really smell all that bad.
After much back-and-forth about names, they settled on Sparta (the girl) and Quintus (the boy). This, they explained, is because the female is vicious when they are wrestling (during the extended session we watched, she went for Quintus' nuts on multiple occasions) and the boy (named after Horace) just goes with the flow. Both are fairly charming and exceptionally cute. We watched them play a 15-minute game of tug of war with a toy that until very recently belonged to Moby, their cat. Moby, who was, perhaps, not the most accomodating of cats to begin with, is not taking the arrival of the dogs that well. She has taken to prowling the outdoors getting in fights with other cats, and, Alex reports, winning. So that's something. We'll post photos at some point.
I'm not a dog person, but I've noticed that I tend to do better when I've known the animal from its puppyhood. It is one of Anna's great sadnesses that I never got to know Peggy, her parents' old dog. I have known Rhoda since she was very small, and we get along really well. I imagine that will be the case for these dogs. I am making an effort in the canine department because I know it means a lot to Anna.
I don't exactly know what we're supposed to do as puppy godparents, but I think it means that if April won't buy Sparta a Barbie doll to chew on, then Anna is supposed to. I think maybe I'm supposed to hold Quintus at his bris or something. We'll see.
The dogs arrived the day after we moved, so while we've been (not) unpacking, they've been cleaning up behind the puppies, who haven't yet remembered to crap on the plastic left out for them rather than, say, the cushions Alex and April have laid out for them to sleep atop. The dogs excrete something every four hours and Alex seemed exhausted from having to deal with all this cleaning. Anna's views on this are known. We got to see Alex and April in action because after an ice cream run, we returned to find both urine and something that was either shit or vomit. My vote is actually vomit because it didn't really smell all that bad.
After much back-and-forth about names, they settled on Sparta (the girl) and Quintus (the boy). This, they explained, is because the female is vicious when they are wrestling (during the extended session we watched, she went for Quintus' nuts on multiple occasions) and the boy (named after Horace) just goes with the flow. Both are fairly charming and exceptionally cute. We watched them play a 15-minute game of tug of war with a toy that until very recently belonged to Moby, their cat. Moby, who was, perhaps, not the most accomodating of cats to begin with, is not taking the arrival of the dogs that well. She has taken to prowling the outdoors getting in fights with other cats, and, Alex reports, winning. So that's something. We'll post photos at some point.
I'm not a dog person, but I've noticed that I tend to do better when I've known the animal from its puppyhood. It is one of Anna's great sadnesses that I never got to know Peggy, her parents' old dog. I have known Rhoda since she was very small, and we get along really well. I imagine that will be the case for these dogs. I am making an effort in the canine department because I know it means a lot to Anna.
I don't exactly know what we're supposed to do as puppy godparents, but I think it means that if April won't buy Sparta a Barbie doll to chew on, then Anna is supposed to. I think maybe I'm supposed to hold Quintus at his bris or something. We'll see.
4 Comment(s):
- Posted by
Rich at September 11, 2005 8:24 AM |
Permanent Link to this Comment - Posted by Anna at September 11, 2005 12:31 PM |
Permanent Link to this Comment
- Posted by Rich at September 11, 2005 1:22 PM |
Permanent Link to this Comment
- Posted by Anna at September 11, 2005 2:49 PM |
Permanent Link to this Comment
I feel like it is my responsibility to represent Sparta, who can not represent herself, and say that the Spartan people is not vicious. Spartans are in fact quite moderate tempered, unlike the freedom-loving Athenians who tend to be either flower children or wild pack animals. Spartans are closer to the Aristotelian ideal. I think Athens or Rome would be a more appropriate name for the dog. Not that this is any of my business...
Not vicious, just tough.
Then, I remove my objection. Tough is a "golden mean."
1.86 units of toughness, roughly.
