(Staring at the puppy)
Two things we noticed right off when we
walked into the
breeder-lady's
house: 1) Eight pairs of eyes staring at us. The lady, her husband,
her mom, and her brother were sizing us up as potential dog owners.
Were
we worthy? Had they checked us out with the FBI? Interpol? The
Pope?
I would not have been surprised. And, 2) The puppies' mommy bouncing
around our feet, barking helpfully ('My house! My humans! Mine!
Mine!). She looked exactly like one of those big silver helium
balloons
you see hovering at the supermarket. She could have been preparing
to
levitate.
Once we passed inspection (whew!), up the stairs to the guest
bedroom,
peeking in a big box, and seeing three little fuzzy puppy bumps.
One
bump
moved, another moved, six ears go up, three little heads wobble,
and
suddenly (someone should have warned us) we are staring into six
little
baby doggie eyes. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. I've heard that you should
never
take a checkbook when puppy shopping, and it is so true. Hubby
and I
turned into melted goo on the floor, our hearts thumping like
diesels.
How do we choose?
(Staring at the puppy)
The lady suggests we take the babies outside
(a roadtest?),
watch them
run around, take our time (we would happily have taken root).
And, off
they go! Wiggling in the grass, jumping in leaves, sniffing flowers,
fuzzy little blurs. Mommy finds a shady spot, plops down with
a huge
sigh, and falls fast asleep ('Yeah, YOU play with 'em for awhile.')
And
so we do.
One little girl doesn't just play with leaves, she shreds
them. She doesn't just sniff flowers, but catalogues them. When
her
brother and sister turn their backs, its POUNCE, going for the
throat
with a gleeful growl. It's no contest. I want her. 'Oh', says
the
breeder-lady, 'This one flies.' 'Pardon?', says hubby. So she
shows
us:
When picked up, the little puppy stretches out her neck, looks
way up
into the sky, and flings all four legs straight out. Sure enough,
she
was
'flying'. When placed back on the ground, she commenced once more
to
terrorize anything that moved.
(Staring at the puppy)
It occurred to us on the way home - horrors!
- that we had
nothing for
the puppy! To Petsmart, tires screeching, but oh, where to start?
Bowls, food, collar, leash, munchies, crate, toys. Toys? But what
kind? We'd never had a puppy before! This one? That one? Rubber?
Stuffed? Rawhide? Plastic? Squeaky? Ahhhhhh! To be safe, I got
one
of each (checking bank balance, Visa balance. Second mortgage?)
Then
(oof) home we go. Out of the car, its time for her to get acquainted
with her new empire. She comes to know every tree, shrub, and
blade of
grass personally. Same with the house. Then, oh, what a big day
for a
little dog, and (foomp) she collapses.
(Staring at the puppy)
Hubby says, 'She's gonna need a name.'
'Cuddles?' No way.
'Bruno?'
Well, it fits. 'She's just like that 'Road Warrior' guy, in the
movie,'
says hubby. Of course! Mad Max. So she becomes, joyfully, our
'Maxine'. Our Maxine, totally dependent, a fragile little life,
now an
important family member. An awesome, exciting responsibility.
A future
full of potential. Maxine stirs, slowly wakes up.
(Staring at the puppy)
Maxine stares back............
To be continued..........