The Case of One Levitating Pup

    Physics. The concepts are really not difficult.  
   
   Modern physics state that: A body continually fed coffee will stay in motion.
   
     Or puppies who eat spilled coffee beans off my kitchen floor won't stop until a force greater than them stops them. Unfortunately, I haven't found that force. And now, Bean and Abu think it's hilarious to slip the puppy a few coffee beans and watch him zing around the room.
    And when I say ZING- I mean I'm not sure if his feet are even touching the ground.

     I love the concept of physics in Scooby Doo cartoons. Such as gravity doesn't work until you notice it, you can go splat and flat and be just fine and there are no such things as monsters, just normal people dressed in super techno, wildly expensive get ups.

   I'm starting to believe that puppy hood defies the laws of physics. How else can I explain a creature that never seems to run out of energy, can chew a toy in two seconds flat (I counted), and can manage to run around the neighborhood loose for only the time it takes me to put on my shoes yet comes back covered in glazed donut.
      I have to admit, the puppy smelled DELICIOUS! Mmm, glazed donut. But as Abu said, as she tried not to laugh, I hope there isn't a kid down the street crying because Gibson stole his donut.
    Oh, great. I might own a donut thief!!

   Actually, my scientific hypothesis based off no real facts except that he was covered in glaze from head to toe, was that he must have found an empty donut box and proceeded to roll in it. All I have to say...it's better than when he rolls in deer poop. Right before I have to leave...and I HAVE to give him a bath because he's not coming in my house with deer poop on him.
   No, the dog hasn't ate my homework but he has made us late because of deer poop.

   My brother who was interested in adopting a puppy has changed his mind. I think I have Gibson to blame. He loves the dog... but I'm sure it's all the lovely stories I have told that has made him rethink his plan to adopt a puppy. Too much work.

  Tell me about it.

  And the BABIES are getting clever. They really do work together to cause mayhem and chaos. And it's simply out of curiosity and wonderment. I truly think that's why they get along. They both share the same sense of wonder. How does this work? Can I eat it? Can I chew on it? Does it break when I perform experiments on it?

 First Case in point: Gibson grabbed a plastic hanger, there were two left on the chair where the older girls grabbed their coats and left for school. He starts chewing on it and TEARING it apart while I'm stuck on the phone. Baby Blueberry notices how much he likes to chew on the hanger and goes over and grabs the second one and hands it to him. ENCOURAGING the mutt!!! At that point, I told the person I had a Baby emergency and I HAD to go! I cleaned up the broken hanger and saved the second one from a similar fate.
   But that didn't stop the BABIES- no- they proceeded to search the room for something else to chew on. And when Blueberry found some paper she immediately hands it to Gibson.

   He loves this Baby. She understands him. Everyone else just yells at him for chewing.

    Second case in point: Gibson loves the trash can.

   - Note to self: Need to buy new trash can with lid. -

     Blueberry noticed how he loves to steal things out of there when I turn my back.

   Yes, the puppy waits until I'm not looking.
   
    So she waits until I turn away and she grabs the potato peels I just tossed in there and starts taking them out and handing them to the puppy.
   
    Blueberry! Out of the trash. So gross.

   Gibson! What have you taught my Baby?


  Perhaps they can communicate because he's telekinetic.

  He can levitate and speak with his mind. 

  I didn't adopt a puppy.

  I adopted a super hero with special powers. 

 
  

Call Me -Gibson the Destroyer

         Adversaries. I stood, not even breathing, just inside the door. Gibson stood on the cement porch, not a muscle twitching. He stared at me with his big, brown puppy dog eyes but it wasn't a look of innocence or playfulness in their depths.
          This was a dog with a mission, an idea, a purpose going through his head and every thought was reflected in his eyes.
          Slow and silent breath. I didn't dare twitch.
          He continued to stare at me.
          I had just unhooked him from his chain and he was supposed to walk into the door with me. Instead, he stood there.
           Outside.
           He was outside where the smells, the thought of freedom, the ability to run as fast and as far as he could was all there for him.
         
           Damn, I really needed to get that fence installed.
          
         "Come on, Gibbs. Come in. Puppy treat." I cooed at him. Coaxing him.
          His eyes light up but not for puppy treats.
          Checkmate.
          He's gone in about three seconds. Down the steps, across the sidewalk and into the wide world. 

         I watch him channel his inner gazelle as he's in my next door neighbor's yard in about two second. From there he decides to cross the street and he's about to jump the retaining wall into the next neighbor's yard when...
        The thud of him hitting the wall, face first, echoes throughout the entire neighborhood. He stumbles back, looks like he's going to shake it off, takes two steps and then wobbles back and forth.
        And continues to wobble long enough for me to run over to him and hook his leash on his collar.

       He doesn't fight me as we walk back to the house and that's when I notice I have blood smeared across my pants.
       "Gibson." I kneel down, eye level with a puppy that looks dazed and confused. Blood is dripping from his chin and onto the sidewalk. He has split his lip. Almost deep enough for stitches.
         Apparently the retaining wall won that match of Puppy Loves to Escape.

        He stumbles into the house and my heart sinks. I wonder just how much damaged the puppy has done to his brain with his latest antics. I'm not looking forward to telling the girls the puppy died by missing a jump.
      He sits down next to Hero Hottie, his little shoulders hunched and stiff. Clearly, everything hurts.
 
      The earlier frustration I felt when he ran off dissipates with my reluctant compassion for him. Even though this is probably episode number ten or twenty of Puppy on the Run, a show I would love to have cancelled- he is just a puppy with an owie.
      I kneel down, scratching behind his ears. I'm sure he hasn't learned anything from his adventure. But for this moment, it's about comfort.


    A few hours later he's fine. The downstairs trash spread across the floor proves it. And the tore up hose in the backyard...only a foot of it hangs from the spigot tells me that he didn't suffer any permanent brain injury. He was also generous to leave enough so that I can at least water the sunflower by the backdoor.
    The couch cushions have once again been tossed off the couch like beanbags and now that the girls are home from school there is an air of screaming, shouting, and reprimanding as he attempts to chew their shoes while they're still WEARING them and nibble on their homework.
   Abu just knows that one day she will have to tell her teacher that her DOG really did eat her homework.

     I know he's only trying to help me with my goal to declutter my life by chewing up useless things we don't need, such as X-Box controllers, shoes, toys, and furniture.
   
      I realize that it's so much fun to be outside, and why does he have to wait on me to do it.
   
     I know he doesn't realize I gave him a new name, No, no. I'm going to get rid of you. 

     He's a puppy. A busy, chewy, can't sit still nor behave puppy.
    
     My advice for anyone wanting to adopt a puppy...skip the puppy, get a dog.
    A mellow one.
    Or you can borrow mine. He would love to visit. Just hide your shoes. And your valuables. And your trash. Oh, and don't forget- hide anything that can be destroyed by teeth.
    But otherwise, they are so cute and cuddly.

Puppy Diaries: The Beginning

              It's been over two years since the canine love of our lives, Buddy, died from cancer. Two years that we didn't have dog hairs on everything, two years since the house lack that wet dog smell after a rain storm.

                Twenty eight months since we stepped foot into our favorite pet store to buy his dog food and special peanut butter biscuits.

                And at first the pain was too raw and the holes in our hearts were too big to fill with another canine presence. We didn't want another dog around.

                As time flew, with life, and then pregnancy and bed rest and now a Baby Blueberry, I was too busy to want a dog.  Hero Hottie and I really missed Buddy the day we brought home the Baby, because he always loved the babies. He was kind and gentle with them. Sniffing Bean and Abu so delicately around their cheeks and their toes and then wagging his tail wildly as he looked at them with promise in his eyes.

       He knew, and perhaps it was the lab in them, he knew to protect them. And right up to the end he did. When they were outside together, his job was to guard them, bark at strangers, and keep them safe. In the evenings, if Hero Hottie was gone, he would sleep in their room until the man of the house was home and then he would go to bed. He loved them. Adored them. Cherished them.

   So it was hard to not be able to share that with him when we brought home Baby Blueberry.

    Abu has been wanting a dog. For months now. She's my animal lover and she has solely missed having a canine around here. For a while it was okay, she would shower affection on the neighbor's cat, who she nick-named Orange Soda.  The cat, hobbling ably around on three legs, would come over for a little petting every time she heard Abu.  Sometimes Orange Soda would be waiting for Abu in the yard and as soon as Abu saw her, she would bounce out of the house, eager to stroke the feline's long, orange fur and cuddle her as close as any cat would allow.

   And then a week after Baby Blueberry was born, I sent the girls out to put the recycling in the bins and they found her. Lying in the yard. Motionless. Bloody. Gone.

   The most we could figure, is that she had been attacked by dogs and had dragged herself to someone she loved. We weren't sure which neighbor she belonged to, so we buried her behind the compost bin and had a funeral for her.  After a few days of searching we finally found her owner. The man was heartbroken but grateful we haven't just dumped her body in the trash. He even came and visited her grave site.

   But after that Abu's heart was aching. She didn't have an animal companion to love. After much debating and discussion and promises that I wouldn't be held responsible for dog duty. We told her she could get a dog for her birthday.  Which coincides with summer, a perfect time to potty train a new pup.

                On her birthday we went to the pound. The smell was so overwhelmingly stenchly that Baby Blueberry started crying, her little nose wrinkling in protest. But a few minutes later our sense of smell had been totally obliterated and the Baby stopped crying. 

              We paused in front of each metal cage, wondering if Abu's and Bean's new canine friend was waiting inside. One puppy seemed sweet. She was white and timid, huddled in the corner of her cage, listening to us talk to her...Then a noise startled her and she jumped, from a sitting position, six foot straight up into the air. 

            I had a dog once that loved to lick your eyebrows as a greeting. So I told the girls to move on. 

            There were too many strays; older labs, many pit bulls, small, snappish dogs- ankle biters- and puppies of various DNA mixes. I always find the pound a sad and lonely place. Metal cages, a stench that will fry the hair off a bear, and a sense of foreboding in the air. 

           There was a beautiful blue heeler pup, but they bark too much for me. And I think they do better if you buy them a sheep to herd, which isn't an option for me. Dog, yes. Sheep, no. 

           A lovely, bushy German Shepherd pup will hopefully go to the perfect family. Just not us. 

          We exam all the cages and there isn't a puppy there that matches our idea. Abu wants to look at them all again. 

           So we do. 

           And then one of the volunteers bring back Gasol, a small black lab and Great Dane mix from his daily exercise outside. 

           The girls are close to his cage and underneath the door, he reaches out his white tipped paw and touches their feet. When he manages to make contact, his slender black tail wags happily. 

           Abu and Bean fall in love with him instantly. 

           Reluctantly, we have to leave and bring back Hero Hottie later. The day is long as they wait for their Dad to get home. 

           Then they are dragging him into the pound, signing up to visit Gasol in a private room and he is just a darling of a puppy. Sociable. Well loved by all the volunteers and staff at the pound. And oh, so careful with the Baby. 

            He sits on Hero Hottie's shoes and peers up into his face. Please take me home. See, I'm a good dog. His expression seems to say. 

             Obviously, a smart dog too, since he knows which person he has to convince the most. 

              Well, his charming behavior worked. Hence the picture below. But we changed his name to Gibson. 

             Yes, after the guitar. 

             

Gibson- charming, easy going and mischievous