Best laid plans and all

There are still some adjustments to be made and rough spots to be smoothed over, as far as the complete integration of the new dog into the household goes. Housebreaking (housebrokenness?) remains an issue, but that’s kind of expected given that:

1. New dog is youngish
2. New dog is a rescue who previously was chained up outside all day, every day, which is not at all conducive to learning NOT to pee wherever one pleases
3. New dog is a bit of a spaz anyway, 1 and 2 notwithstanding

So, you know, accidents happen. They get cleaned up and we all move on. New dog also barks a lot (I’m not quite so peevish as to refer to it as either “yipping” or “yapping” … yet) whether it be for attention or for food or just because he doesn’t quite trust the way that reflected bit of sunlight is just floating there on the wall. (For reals.) And new dog follows us around everywhere in the house, occasionally trotting right between one’s feet and risking inadvertent kicks to the head. Yet I’m reasonably sure a lot of that will be a distant memory some day.

And there are cute, non-annoying things, like the way he will lead the way from the closet where the dog food is kept to his bowl when it’s chow time, running in what amounts to a corkscrew pattern, towards the bowl, then back towards me to make sure I’m still bringing the grub, then back towards the bowl, then back towards me, in tight little spazzy circles.

Of course new dog was my wife’s idea and is her dream pet, the Cavalier King Charles being a breed she has dreamed of owning for years. So, in theory, he’s her dog.

In terms of dog ownership (aka dog accountability) we’ve often joked about our original, main dog being either hers or mine, whose idea it was to keep him, depending largely on how well-behaved the dog has been lately. I accepted that the dog ended up mostly mine, but the arrival of our little guy seemed to settle the issue because we simply entered countdown mode, figuring as soon as the little guy was old enough to take on even token responsibilities, the dog would be his.

So my wife gets the little bitty dog and my son gets the medium mutt, sounds like a great plan, right?

You see where this is headed.

New, little bitty dog is reasonably tolerant of the toddler’s attention, but oh, MAN, you guys: the little guy loooOOOOoooves the new dog. Can’t get enough of him. Has the dog’s name on his lips when he wakes up in the morning, needs to say goodnight to the dog before going to bed each evening. Hugs him all the time. It is pretty precious. I guess they’ve bonded over being the smallest of their species in the house, respectively. You just never know who exactly is going to find common ground or lifelong friendship with whom when you start collecting a whole mess of small dependent creatures under your roof.