Tuesday, September 22, 2009

More on the Puppy

Hunter in my hosta garden.

His name is Hunter. Sounds good with our "H" last name, right? I love how when I think up names for things (babies, fish, dogs, etc.) my children totally back me up. This time, husband B was on board immediately, as well.

When they play outside together, S loves to decorate Hunter with leaves and flowers.

Hunter is a delightful mix of German short-haired pointer, black lab, and quite possibly border collie. You'd never believe it, but he's darling and very mellow. Most of the time. The kids adore him. My husband adores him. I feel too responsible for his health and well-being to be able to adore him. Instead, I cautiously like him. I didn't realize that was how it was, at first. I thought it was buyer's remorse. (Or adopter's remorse, in this case. Although much money has passed from my hands into the hands of new veterinarian and PetSmart employees, to date.) Then, the other day, when the puppy obviously was not digesting his food properly, I found myself unable to call the veterinarian. Why? Because I was convinced that the vet was going to discover our newest family member had some kind of horrible, life-threatening health problem. And then I would have to tell the children. And my husband. And they would be devastated. Me, too.

Sigh. Dramatic, eh? Please don't think I'm a crazy lady who isn't taking care of her dog. I mixed unflavored yogurt into his kibbles. Hunter liked it. He loved it. He wanted more of it! And it actually worked. Puppy diarrhea seems to have passed (pun intended, sorry). And I'm going to take a sample into the vet today just to make sure.

E and Hunter taking a Sunday nap together. Sweet!

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