tiredI'm so lucky I found Wrigley; it's hard to believe he was at a shelter, he's so beautiful and terribly sweet, especially with visitors. With me, he can be stubborn as all get-out, meaning my mother somewhat got her wish when she hoped I'd have children just like me.
He's the most popular kid in school, too. Everyone comes up to him, from the people I see while walking him, to all the kids at
zen_raven's block party, to random people in large SUVs who yell a question to me at a stoplight, asking what breed of dog he is, and telling me how gorgeous he is. The vet and their assistants fell in love with him, too -- they even said shelter dogs are the best, because they're smart and sweet.And it's excellent that he's amazing with kids: he can get mobbed by 5 of them, who want to pet his so soft fur, and the only sign he makes is dropping his tail. Other than that, he just sits there totally patiently and lets them ooh and ahh over him. Even the kids who are absolutely afraid of dogs (yet another story) started coming up and wanting to pet him, he was that calm.
He and the cat are starting to get along better, though he still doesn't understand just what the cat is. Half the time he is under the impression that he's a weird sort of dog, and tries to initiate play time. Or maybe I'm wrong and he really thinks Patches would be a good play toy; the way he loves his fuzzy squeaker toy could support that theory.
Today I'm going to work on putting the treadmill back together (since I had to replace the console), and work on moving the puppo's crate up there; I'll also need to devise some system to get air-flow up there, as it can get a wee bit hot up there during the day. But the move will be good, and let Patches (the cat) acclimate a bit better, and perhaps even get her butt off the couch.
