Schraeder, Presta...I have a puppy! Or rather, I have been adopted by a puppy. Because let's be honest: they OWN us, not the other way around. EVEn my easy geriatric puppy.
It's almost not fair. He sleeps, and sleeps, and nibbles, and comes house broken. It's almost like a cat. If you don't ask the cat.
Oh, they tolerate each other. And they'll figure it out. I came in today and I've got one on the counter, one down below, and the other acting like she wasn't involved in the demise of my lunch AT ALL.
The first night wasn't such a fairy tail. Poor Lucky had a rough one. He didn't seem to mind (much) and looked quite handsome in his S&M mask. It sounds much worse than it was...just a lengthy hospital visit. REALLY, no worries...just fleas. It's all good now.
Once Barley learns she can stand under Lucky like a Parker umbrella she'll lead a charmed life. And if I can keep Lucky walking back and forth beneath Parker's outstretched combing claws I'll have one pet fully groomed-sans hooman. Fluff-o-matic! It's purrrfect that they're friends.
This traffic is for the dogs!
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