today we went to visit with our soon-to-be new family member, aka the cutest little puppy in the world. he’s about 8 weeks old now, and has doubled in size since we last saw him 4 weeks ago. we took him out for a few hours, showing him off to friends and strangers, and walking around the neighbourhood. i write “walking” but really we were the ones who did most of that, with him being carried: the collar we’d bought for him is too big, he has no concept of what a leash is, and frankly he’s still so small that it’d be ridiculous to expect him to keep up with us.
in picking him up from his current home, we finally met the woman who owns the momma dog, aka MD. to say she was not what we’d pictured is an understatement, mostly due to her age: i’d be shocked if she’s more than twenty years old. as we’d told her we would, we gave her $40 to cover some of the costs of puppy food and supplies. once we’d left her apartment and had a chance to confer, we decided that we’d best give her that again sometime soon. it puts all the other sketchiness about the puppy dealing in perspective, and now i’m wondering if she might have *needed* to sell the pups, simply for some cash.
we’ve chosen a name that is slightly similar to the one he was given at birth, but different enough that it’s part of our new life together. i’m debating over what to call him here on the blog: i could keep calling him “mono” (the birth name), or i could come up with something new.
i once knew someone who named their dog “theory”, which made me laugh because dogs are very much the opposite of theoretical discourse. in fact, they are excellent reminder of the importance of action. so, oats suggested that we continue with the joke by naming our pup “practice”. this could be fitting, not only because of how he will keep us in the now, but also because of the frequent comment we’ve been hearing from friends: “you’re getting a puppy as practice for a baby!”
while we were out, oats’ coworker came by our place and dropped off a couple bushels of pears from her tree. it was a lovely gesture, especially because she only wants a few jars of jam in exchange. however, they’re still sitting out there, right where she left them, because the fridge is full of peppers, the zucchinis are on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, there’s bread and butter pickles cooking on the stove, and i’ve got 24 jars of spicy peach chutney cooling on the counter. i feel satisfied, but on the verge of being overwhelmed. it’s a fine line, and those pears aren’t entering the house until i know i can cope with them.