And His Name Shall Be...

November 2, 2010

It's final. His name is Coach (kennel name is Heeza Royal Coachman, after something fly-fishing related), and so far he's a good dog. Lots of crotch sniffing and the occasional accident on the kitchen floor--exactly what you'd expect from a puppy.

So far he seems to be an adequate running buddy. He keeps up, he stays to the right, and if all goes as planned, he'll live up to his name. For the time being he's coming along for the three and four milers, but maybe someday, if I haven't thrown in the towel for something easier on the knees (like bowling), he'll be a distance guy. We'll see.

Gracie, our eleven year old greyhound, seems to be handling her new housemate just fine. She sleeps, she farts, she ate an entire turkey carcass out of the trash while I was at work this morning--exactly what you'd expect from that big ol' girl.

I stopped at home for lunch about an hour ago, and Gracie greeted me at the door with a total, "Seriously? Say what you will because I don't give damn," kind of look. It's her signature. Then, when she turned around to walk away and ignore me (really, this is normal protocol), I noticed that she was just about as wide as a barrel.

Excellent. In between the mad dash of kids, and coats, and figuring out who the crap I'm voting for, I forgot to take out the trash. Cross your fingers for no midnight trip to the emergency vet clinic. We did that this time last year and I swear on all thing holy that it was more expensive than my epidural with Maggie.

Now before I move on, did anyone notice that I happened to whip up a turkey for just-another-Monday-night dinner? Really, did you? Yes? Maybe?

Because Jared kind of didn't. At least not until he halfway digested the gravy, then he was all, "Wait. What?! A turkey?! You spoil me, Amy!"

And I was like, "I know, you should buy me more stuff! Soon!"

So far, no dice. I'll keep you posted.

And as another sidenote, I'd really like to add some pictures of the dogs, but my laptop's in the shop and I'm working on a computer that, I schnit you not, has a disc drive--this gem truly doesn't understand what a digital picture is. If this computer could listen to music, it would totally love Phil Collins.

Friends, I'm passionate about my job, especially the cutting edge equipment. Some people have iPads. Some people have netbooks. I have a floppy disc drive, byotches.

The good news is, who, in total and complete honesty, really wants to see a picture of someone else's dog? He's brown and white and poops in my yard--use your imagination and your mental picture will be more that sufficient. I promise.

So there, life goes on with two dogs. In the grand scheme of things, what's an extra splash or urine here and there?