Happiness Is a New, Warm Puppy.

I feel like I have not written for a year.  But I have a good excuse.  My time has been all-encompassed by this:

Willa.  A very sweet pup.

As well as this (actually this is very subdued compared to their regular wrestling goings-on):

 

Meet the newest addition to our crazed house, Willa.  She fits right in.  The best thing is, she's waaaaay mellow.  She loves to sleep in the lap of the human who is closest when she gets hit by the sleep bug,  has no toileting issues (unlike some other dogs we know...I'm not mentioning names, but sounds like Drip It), and can totally hold her own.  This all balances out very nicely with Lady Neuroses, also known as Pippet, i.e., the afore-unmentioned toileting-issued (among many, many other issues) dog.

When we adopted Willa (big shout out of thanks to Kelley Prichard and her organization, Adopt A Stray http://www.adoptastrayrescue.org/ for sending this sweet girl our way!!) I knew what to expect:  the energy needed to make our little one feel at home, and the time and attention we would have to spend getting her used to her new surroundings.  But even as prepared as I was, much of everything else in our daily routine dropped out the bottom, shall I say, while the doting, learning and training ensued.  Holy crap, my floors are filled with puppy detritus brought in from the yard, which has not been mowed in weeks.  {Alex--MOW THE LAWN!!!!}  Chewed bits of unrecognizable stuff can be found under every piece of furniture in the living room.  And there are no less than twenty toys of various sizes and materials splayed about the floors from one end of the house to the other.  I'm waiting for Jay to roll an ankle on one of them so we can hear a blue streak echo throughout.  And now, Pippet is reverting.  She has decided that paws up on tables and counter tops are totally OK, and anything she finds up on said surfaces is fair game.  She took a tub of port wine cheese off the counter and consumed about half of it before I got to her (and if you are wondering who eats that garbage, well, now you know:  me and Pippet).  This morning I intercepted her schnoz from engulfing an apple core just as it (the schnoz, not the apple core) was readying for the attack.  She has suddenly taken great interest in slurping out of my coffee cup, only after taking a nice, long draw from the toilet.  I'm hoping everyone is remembering to flush while in their puppy-induced haze.  Bad behavior aside, she gets along with her new housemate, so I should be glad of that and just work through the two-year-old-acting-out.

As much as we miss our old girl Scout (who is, of course, still here in our hearts), it is wonderful to see youth and energy in the house again.  Pippet finally has a sister to play with and who actually may have more energy than her at times.  They are both passed out right now, exhausted from chewing on each other for a good hour.  I am so going to take this time to enjoy the peace and quiet.  It's just like when my kids were babies.  Talk about full circle!!

And so I am going to leave this post short and sweet.  So much has happened in the last couple of weeks.  There are Shirtless Running Guy stories, my adventures with DIY at-home mole removal (steady your stomachs for that one), discoveries made during furniture moving, and a never-ending tick season.  All stories to be told another time.  Stay tuned...I'm back at it!!

Shirtless Running Guy...Done Up.

Today as I was having my routine Thursday morning cranky-fest over coffee with my friend, Sue, none other than SRG ran by.  But now that time of year is upon us that I can no longer call him Shirtless Running Guy.  And so I give you...SHIRTED RUNNING GUY:

That  je ne sais quoi is lost once the shirt appears, no? 

Sadly, the hedges prevent us from getting the full effect.  But though he wears a tank top in today's picture, the shorts remain lit-tuhl.  Very lit-tuhl.  I like the baseball cap, too.  I haven't seen him without it in a long time.  Could Shirted Running Guy be having an issue with his hair follicles atrophying?  We may never know.  Unless he ditches the hat.