Who's a Bitch?

Two days with Sugar. Two achingly long days of her adjustment (not over by any means). Not to mention the first night, when I sat up all night rocking her trembling in my bosom, and wondered how I got myself knocked up at my age. But so far I'm keeping it upbeat. It seems I am Woman, dog loves me, dog adores and worships, dog follows me everywhere with her glassy black eyes, though usually from the position of my shoulder or the crook of my arm. So what if she doesn't completely get the puppy paperss idea yet? I don't mind the scent of scouring powder mingling with my mani. Soon she will learn. As soon as I can figure out how to apply the instructions in the twelve books amassed in my Kindle about Potty Training.

Poodles, I'm told, are the geniuses of the canine world, second only to Border Collies (am I repeating myself? Did I write that already in an earlier post?) You will forgive. Am half brain dead from anticipated further sleep deprivation and so much COMPANY. Poodles are not companions, they're extra limbs, they feel they're nothing without their human. If you don't want your Poodle around all the time you're committing one of the worst kinds of animal abuse. Remember that one from a previous post?

Whoo! Quite stressful for a loner type. The conversation between us has grown overheated at bed time especially. So overheated, the rhetoric so whiny and howling at times, such as when we disagree politically, e.g. I explain to her liberally, in a low paniced voice that it is psychologically and educationally sound for her to be in her crate for the night and try to give her a little loving shove inside.But she does not lower the rhetoric at all. I fear she paid no attention whatsoever to the president's speech the other night, answering my polite statement about our differences with soft moans and high-pitched howls. Some genius. The message was geared to the understanding of five-year-olds, and Sugar's life is measured in dog years.

I believe I shall not go out to the Safeway within the next 24 hours. People in SUBURBAN New Jersey, you are so safe at this moment.

Sugar, my pet, if you ever read this (for you are a genius of the canine world and we start stunt training next week), I admit to you that the above is a pack of lies. For you are as sweet a pup as ever lived. This is the truth. But loners are also grumblers, so don't take any offense, dear. Mwa mwa, puppy kisses.