Pete, the World.
It’s about time the two of you were introduced since you’ve been a part of our lives for over twenty-four hours now (and a taxing twenty-four hours they have been). But now that we’ve made it through our first day together, things have calmed down long enough for me to sneak away to write this.
Pete is my new puppy.
He’s a seven-month old hound dog I adopted through a rescue and adoption organization here in Dallas called Paws in the City. I feel a little insane adopting a dog this close to Christmas and when I’m, oh yea, not steadily employed, but something in my gut told me this was the right decision. About a month ago I wrote about my other dog, Clark Kent, and her diagnosis of Shar Pei fever. Episodes of fever and swelling (associated with Shar Pei fever) are thought to be brought on by stress, whether physical or emotional, so my thought process is that I can reduce Clark’s emotional stress by providing her with a playmate. I just can’t be home every second of every day, so she needs another dog to play with and keep her company.
Enter Pete.
He’s a bit of a mess, all lanky puppy arms and legs, scavenging for food in the trashcans and pissing all over my carpet. But he and Clark seem to love each other, and that makes me happy. All the kinks will get worked out in time and, of course, with extensive training. So get ready, Pete, because come January, I’m enrolling your ass in Puppy Kindergarten.
My new Christmas wish is for patience.
And for Pete to not destroy my house.
*Not to be confused with Pete Townshend, although the similarities are uncanny.
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