Puppy, Puppy, Puppy

(edit — this is old. I mean, real­ly. The pup­py already lives with us. It’s utter chaos.)

I did­n’t intend it to hap­pen this way. I mean, I did intend to some day, per­haps not too long from now, get anoth­er Bou­vi­er. But not right now. Except that right now is how it hap­pened. Or will hap­pen. Real Soon Now.

Ivan passed away on April 4^th. Sud­den­ly. It was all a bit dra­mat­ic and unpleas­ant and, well, unfor­tu­nate. So I wrote to Susan to let her know. And then it all hap­pened. There were pup­pies. And one male unspo­ken for. And Jim and I talked about it and… and…

in the words of my friend S. Pup­py, pup­py, pup­py. She’s also the one who said, omg _eyebrows_

So here we are with a pup­py in-bound and I gave away all of my baby gates to peo­ple with actu­al­ly babies and the ex-pens last held sheep and the crates are bro­ken down and stored in the barn and the old lady dog will not know what hap­pened to her qui­et, order­ly, bor­ing life.

We vis­it­ed last week­end. They were ⁷¹⁄₂ weeks old and goofy and adorable in the way that Bou­vi­er pup­pies are. I have pic­tures and video to prove it.