So this is our new puppy. Probably.
You may squeal if you like. I certainly can’t stop you, and suspect that trying to repress it might cause some of you actual harm. Go ahead. Squeal. Clap your hands a bit. I’ll wait.
Done? Super. We’ve talked about getting a…
Okay then, you weren’t done. Get it out of your system. Go on.
Right. Finished? You sure? If not, just hold your breath for a bit while I get this done. Then you can scroll back up to the picture and do that squealing thing again.
We’ve talked about getting a dog for the best part of two years, always as part and parcel of returning to the UK. For a while we held off – too much to do settling into work, and the new house, and school. For a while it looked like being adjourned until Spring, and better weather.
And then the week before last week Kirsty suggested that it might be time to think about maybe starting to look for a puppy, maybe, if we were ready.
I took little convincing. Four days later we were staring down at the litter of six week old black labradors pictured above (they really are black – I had to tint the picture to stop them blurring into an amorphous black mass with eyes). One of them is our puppy. We’ve no idea which one yet – the ladies will be going to make the final selection this weekend while I dayjobify – and it doesn’t really matter. At six weeks they were pretty much identical little bundles of madly curious teeth and tails. I’m going to pretend that the one sniffing Eva’s hand in the photo is our puppy. It might as well be.
We’ll be getting a bitch, and despite my best efforts she probably isn’t going to be culled Cthulu or Nyarlathotep. At this stage, she is almost definitely Sadie, as it’s a name that none of us particularly loathe**.
Four more sleeps.
You may now scroll back up and recommence your squeal.
(and I know I said today was to be a running blog, but unless I tell you about the puppy I can’t properly explain why Heather is my Alpha and Omega in 2015… more on that tomorrow or the day after, depending on the fireworks stuff and how that goes)
*I may even squeal a little too, in a grudge and masculine sort of way.
**I had no idea how many names I actively loathe until I started imagining standing in a park and shouting them***.
***I realise Nyarlathotep may not technically pass the shout-in-the-park test, but it would definitely have drawn admiring glances.