Happy adoption anniversary! (Aka: we adopted two puppies and survived.)

“If we only had one, we’d have a halfway decent dog by now,” Mr. T grumbled.

“Oh yeah? Well which one would you have chosen? Who would you give back now?” I challenged, thinking I could not imagine life without our wonderful, happy-go-lucky, kinda dumb but so damn sweet Walter. And then I thought about sly Clyde, the smart, feisty, troublemaker with a tender heart and eyes that must see into your soul. I couldn’t choose then and I couldn’t now either.

This refrain passed between us many times over the last year that we raised two pups. (Yes, two puppies. We’re crazy like that. See the details of that genius decision here.) SO many times when we managed the long road of house training (almost there, Walter!), teaching commands, dealing with chew stages and fear stages and hormone changes, the crate training, digging up of plants, the eating of carpet… times two!

It’s been a wild year watching two puppies grow and change. A week after we brought them home from the rescue, I spent an evening reading about the perils of adopting litter-mates and the oodles of extra work required to keep them from fighting or bonding only with each other. It scared the crap out of me. But as the boys get older, I find myself thinking “What have we done?!” less and less.

Happily, a year on, they get along well, display distinct and fun personalities, and have definitely bonded with us. But you wouldn’t know that because in the last year, I’ve only written about them twice. Twice! With my blogger head hung in shame, I’ll make up for it by offering a year’s worth of memories in one post. Muah ha ha ha.

Top row, from left: Day 1, December 21, 2016. A few months later. Then December 21, 2017. Bottom row, from left: Two months old, four months old, 12 months old.

Now, midway through this post, about 200 pictures in, you might be thinking “Wow, she’s really turned into one of those dog mom types.” And I’ll have to own that because there’s little evidence to the contrary. BUT. We endeavor to keep a four-on-the-floor policy (seriously Clyde, get off the damn couch) and there is not, nor will there ever be any dogs in bed. Ahem.

December 21, 2016. Eight weeks old. Teeny, two pounds and 13 ounces each.
One of the strangest things about bringing new dogs in the house was re-using some of Goliath’s things, like this water and food dish. I still won’t let them have his hedgehog though. Sigh.
Like babies, the beginning was all sleeping and pooping. If you want to see a hundred cute videos, visit my instagram page and scroll way back.
They learned early on how much fun it is to play in the mud.
February 2017. Pre-vaccination field trips to socialize. Note: Many Michael’s stores are pet-friendly.
Clyde almost got renamed Fizzgig after this photo.
It didn’t take them long to fall in love with their wild kingdom.
And cardboard boxes. (And this reminds me, early on we could tell them apart by their brown ears. Walter had a brown right ear, and Clyde, a brown left.)
February 2017, two months old. Love bugs!
Visiting Marm’s to meet pugs and get pictures taken.

 

And then they learned how to scrabble up onto their crates. And *someone* ahem, Walter, started peeing off the side of his crate.
But it’s hard to get mad at a face like this. Walter is such a joyful soul.
So serious, Clyde.
And floofy. It was right about now that we started praying he didn’t realize he could totally escape from the pen if he wanted to.
March 2017. Learning how to walk on a leash. Walks were marked by how many blocks we could go before a pick-up was requested.
One of these days they’ll actually be good enough on a leash that I can walk them together. We’re still not there yet.
My life’s goal is to nap with abandon like Walter.
So much love for these two monsters.
Even when they eat my plants.
Or require THREE BATHS IN A WEEK.
April 2017. Puppy time at the West Coast Ravens formation flying clinic.
Cs get degrees apparently. Walter utterly failed the sit/stay portion of the obedience class test but ROCKED the leash skills and recall.
May 2017. Hot dogs!
Walter will lick you to death if he could. And as he’s gotten older, we’re no longer convinced he’s only a maltipoo. Tim swears he’s part hippo as he gallumphs rather than scampers. He also shows decided rabbit traits with his pounce-hops. 
But both boys missed the mud-baths-aren’t-for-white-dogs memo. I’m still so happy this happened on T’s watch and not mine.
C&W Associates, at your service. And the groomer put those ties on, not me!
First trip away from the pups and yes, we’ve facetimed. Walter really wanted to know why I was trapped in the little box.
June 2017. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. We had them neutered at the SPCA Spay/Neuter clinic. Low cost and great care. 
Definitely recommend the zen cones… they seem way more comfortable than the hard plastic. Sadly, the donut cones (which look like life preservers) were a bust.
And suddenly my “Oh, the garden boxes are safely out of reach” thoughts went bye bye. 
And then Mom-5 and Ray-Dad gave me a ball pit for my birthday. SO FUN!
Clyde meets his first ribeye and is strangely not impressed.
Fourth of July at the airport! I joked that the smell of BBQ was so powerful, they might tow the plane to get some. Knock on wood, they didn’t seem too alarmed by fireworks.
Under-the-desk “why you on that computer so much, come play with me!” face.
It’s hard to believe now, 15 pounds later, that Clyde (left) was probably the runt of the litter. A year on, he still tends to be the nervous one… alerting us when things seem amiss. As a puppy he harbored deep skepticism toward all manner of inanimate objects, losing his mind barking at certain rocks, a colander, pots and pans, bushes in the yard he’d seen his entire life, a trash can. Oddly, he’s not afraid of chainsaws, blenders or vacuum cleaners.
August 2017. “I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And gosh darn it, people like me.”  Walter, on the other hand, has maintained a fearless attitude, running to meet new people and objects at every opportunity. And he absolutely adores water… jumping in puddles, chasing the hose, running in the rain. Unless said water happens to be for a bath, then he acts like he’s being murdered. Channels Goliath during bathtime, for sure.

 

A favorite summer pastime involved us throwing dinner kibbles into the ballpit and letting them root around. 
September 2017. I really loved that plant, too.
Double trouble dog adolescence… not for the faint of heart. The good news? Absolutely no shoes were lost during their puppyhood. 
October 2017. #sorrynotsorry
Naturally, they attacked the costumes with verve, immediately post-photoshoot.
And then each other. 
November 2017. “I say, madam, that bath looks big enough for three.”
December 2017. 30 pounds of happy fluff.
December 21, 2017. And to think, just one year ago that tree was felled and these guys were 8 weeks and not even three pounds each. Happy adoption-a-versary, boys!

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