My Children

I am exhausted. Exhausted in every sense of the word. My back aches and my shoulders are full of knots. And I really wish I could just sleep and sleep and sleep. But I can’t. This exhaustion will likely last for days. It was all worth it though.

You see I am now the proud parent of two miniature schnauzer puppies. They’re only ten weeks old and are so dang small. Small but feisty. They’re giving our other dog, Eli, hell even while I’m writing this. If those two aren’t trying to eat his bone, then they’re biting Eli’s haunches.

Eli is not taking this well at all. He was uppity and territorial before but now he’s just cranky. He growls at the puppies over the slightest thing—trying in vain to make them come to heel. At the same time Eli is oddly mothering. When the two puppies get into a tussle Eli takes it upon himself to be the referee. It’s sweet.

Even with our dog babysitter Mom and I can’t seem to tear ourselves away from the little scamps. When we went through the pet store yesterday I ended up eyeing those stupid dog bags, thinking that way I could just take them to school with me and save myself the trouble of worrying over them all day. But I didn’t get one of the little dog carriers. I can’t bring myself to look like Paris Hilton.

And I have learned a valuable lesson: do not bring two puppies into a pet store! The pups were little angels; it’s the people who went nuts. We had to bring the puppies into Pets Mart so we could them collars and a few other necessities. It took us three times as long to get our shopping done because everyone and their cousin Jimmy had to come over and ask us the questions. What kind of dog is that? How old are they? Can I pet it? I shouldn’t be surprised though. Those two puppies are the cutest things in the world.

It was kismet when we picked out those two. The runny-eyed runt we finally decided to call Oliver, after Oliver Twist. If you look into his scraggly face you can almost hear him saying, “Please sir, I want some more.” He’s so spunky and curious and he fears absolutely nothing. His little face looks like it’s in a perpetual pout. But don’t let his cute face fool you, he’s an imp all the way through. You can tell when he bounces about on his bowlegs. Oliver is mine. Two days and he has already got me twisted around his little paw. He squeaks, I pick him up, and he climbs up my chest for the best and warmest view he can get. He squeaks a lot. It’s the only flaw I’m willing to admit he has.

The little girl’s name is Sadie. Officially, it’s Princess Sadie Grace but we’re trying not to let that get to her head. I believe we’re failing miserably. That little black ball of elegant fluff knows she’s hot stuff. Where Oliver is scraggily, Sadie is well kept and sophisticated looking. When we picked her up she was so calm, with the bearing of a refined lady (like Princess Grace Kelly, hence two-thirds of her name). That is all a sham. Our little lady is more of a live wire than her brother when she wants to be. She’s figured out by now how to grab Oliver’s collar and tug him where she wants, nearly choke him in the process.

It’s incidents like that that have had me on edge for the past two days. I keep monitoring them to see if Sadie is going to strangle Oliver, or if Oliver is going to bite Sadie’s ears. They’re on a strict schedule too. Sleep, outside, eat, play, outside, play, and sleep again. All of that in an hour or two. They go through life at warp speed and it’s all I can do to keep up. Oh did I mention they’re sleeping in my room? So I’m on their schedule not the other way around. No wonder I’m so exhausted.