Alfred & I have officially become the best parents in the world. We caved and not only got Lillie a puppy – but a kitten as well. For the past two weeks, our conversations have gone mostly like this:
Lillie: Where is Biscuit? She needs a hug.
Me: Why don’t you leave her alone for a few minutes. Let her breath.
Lillie: But she needs hugs, not breaths.
She’s a wonderful little puppy that my husband somehow convinced me was a good investment when he snatched her up from a friends house. They didn’t have the time for her, so it’s worked out well for both of us at this point. We estimate she’s around 3 months old and something like a Chihuahua/dachshund mix. I’m just basing that off of her pointy ears and incredibly long torso/short legs. Watching her run full-speed makes my heart happy. It’s like she has no joints at all, her legs just kick straight out and up.
Gravy came home with Alfred a couple days later when she jumped in his truck – twice – and she actually let Alfred hold her. We’ve had a few cats over the years (I’m a huge cat lover) but the downfall every time is that they won’t let Alfred just hold them when he wants too. Basically Alfred’s problem with cats is pretty simple: they’re not dogs, so I was really surprised to see him carrying a cat.
I must note that Biscuit was already named when we got her but Gravy was not. My Emilie gets full credit for that. They both get along really well and play together nicely. Since we’re not home for most of the day, it’s nice to know they’re not lonely (one of the reasons I held off on saying yes to a puppy for so long).
House training has been a nice reminder as to why we don’t have a second child - cleaning up poop is overrated.
Which reminds me – when Lillie calls Biscuit. It sounds pretty similar to “BIIIIGSHIIIT” and it is hilarious.
Based on that fact alone – totally worth the poop.