Santa is Real, part 2
Today was a jumble-scrum of Crispness zanies. I woke up early and with the intention of putting my house to rights. It's particularly cluttered from a few weeks of having time only to manage laundry and Critical Cleaning (meaning bathroom and kitchen) in deference to working more hours, longer hours, and piling on the outside-of-work activities. Bih. Zee.
The first couple of hours went well. I was cruising along, getting stuff done. Then, mom and M arrived more than half an hour early with the puppy and things started to slide. My breakfast had just come out of the oven, and was left to sit. I turned the tea water off. This dog was filthy!
Eu de Barn, exacerbated by the kind farmer's misguided attempt to "condition" the dog's coat by rubbing her down with baby oil. Yes. I really wrote that. And it's really what he did.
She was very sweet and enormously compliant for a puppy who's never been bathed. I washed her twice, conditioned her once, ran out of hot water (I had a load of work sheets going on hot at the same time). I blew her dry, which she didn't much mind -- thank all that is!
We went outside and, while she was fascinated by snow and the various smells, nothing happened. I put her in the cat carrier my mom brought, and discovered that she was not a real fit. Couldn't stand up. I figured it would do for an hour while I got a few more tasks ticked off of my list. I even thought that the close quarters might make her more inclined to stay dry. Once the water heated back up, I took a shower.
I'm such an optimist.
She peed and pooped. She flipped around in it. I couldn't get her out without dismantling the thing, which I did. I popped her back into the tub and we began the scrubbing process anew. The good news was that this wash seemed to have cleared out the last of the baby oil. She was even fluffier after the second session with the blow dryer.
Side note: I will NEVER get a dog with such a high-maintenance coat. (She's a golden retriever / poodle mix.) Holy! Good thing she's so sweet.
I plopped her into the crate while I cleaned the cat carrier. One it was dry and reassembled, I turned to the crate to effect the transfer and saw that she was sitting in a puddle of urine. How could this be? She'd peed the Danube in the carrier not half an hour before!
Back to the tub. Are you sensing a theme? This time, only the legs and belly and bum. Back to the blow dryer. Into the cat carrier. Clean the crate. Take her out. No pee. No poo. Put her back into the crate. Jump into the shower because I did not escape bath number two and the carrier cleaning feeling entirely clean. Get out of the shower to see the puppy standing in a puddle of pee.
Into the tub, just the feet this time. No blow dryer. Into the carrier, clean the crate, back to the crate. Got dressed, put her into the vehicle, drove to my mom's barn, followed her to Santa's house -- where he was hitching Mike (a perchie) to the sleigh carriage. Ah! At last! The puppy hand-off!
Back to mom's to hang with the kids, and see my dad, stepmom, and stepsister. Really nice! Then, along comes St. Nick. HBH stared. Santa said, "Hi kids! I'm back for our ride. And, also, do you remember when I thought there was something alive in the bag yesterday? Well, when I got back home last night, the elves told me that I'd left this beautiful puppy behind! She's meant for HBH and her name is Jasmine."
HBH stared, goggled really, backed away a step, hovered, took a step forward.
Santa went on, "Now HBH, a puppy is a lot of responsibility. And while she's very cute, I want to make sure that you want that kind of present."
Breathless HBH: "Yes, please Santa, I do. Very much."
Puppy transfer number three.
HBH was speechless. I can't remember seeing him speechless before. He held her and kind of swayed a little bit, staring, unable to take it all in. Then he got very teary, overwhelmed, buried his face in her fluffy coat. Raised his head, looked at her, at the room, at us, at Santa, trying again to take it in. Wandered to the kitchen. M followed, to make sure he was ok. He looked at her and started crying, "What just happened in there, Mom?"
He couldn't put her down. So, he wrapped her in a thick fleece blanket and off they went in the carriage with Santa, M, my mom, HCH, and MCH. Perfect.
He is in love. And she is already bonding to him. He's a budding dog whisperer, has gotten their Westie to do things M despaired of ever convincing her to do. His heart grew larger, bolder, more hopeful, less tentative, willing to be fierce in the vulnerability of loving a new puppy.
In case I've not mentioned it, Santa is real.
-Dot
Copyright 2007 Dot's Stuff. All rights reserved, though you do have the right to put out cookies and milk for Santa.
The first couple of hours went well. I was cruising along, getting stuff done. Then, mom and M arrived more than half an hour early with the puppy and things started to slide. My breakfast had just come out of the oven, and was left to sit. I turned the tea water off. This dog was filthy!
Eu de Barn, exacerbated by the kind farmer's misguided attempt to "condition" the dog's coat by rubbing her down with baby oil. Yes. I really wrote that. And it's really what he did.
She was very sweet and enormously compliant for a puppy who's never been bathed. I washed her twice, conditioned her once, ran out of hot water (I had a load of work sheets going on hot at the same time). I blew her dry, which she didn't much mind -- thank all that is!
We went outside and, while she was fascinated by snow and the various smells, nothing happened. I put her in the cat carrier my mom brought, and discovered that she was not a real fit. Couldn't stand up. I figured it would do for an hour while I got a few more tasks ticked off of my list. I even thought that the close quarters might make her more inclined to stay dry. Once the water heated back up, I took a shower.
I'm such an optimist.
She peed and pooped. She flipped around in it. I couldn't get her out without dismantling the thing, which I did. I popped her back into the tub and we began the scrubbing process anew. The good news was that this wash seemed to have cleared out the last of the baby oil. She was even fluffier after the second session with the blow dryer.
Side note: I will NEVER get a dog with such a high-maintenance coat. (She's a golden retriever / poodle mix.) Holy! Good thing she's so sweet.
I plopped her into the crate while I cleaned the cat carrier. One it was dry and reassembled, I turned to the crate to effect the transfer and saw that she was sitting in a puddle of urine. How could this be? She'd peed the Danube in the carrier not half an hour before!
Back to the tub. Are you sensing a theme? This time, only the legs and belly and bum. Back to the blow dryer. Into the cat carrier. Clean the crate. Take her out. No pee. No poo. Put her back into the crate. Jump into the shower because I did not escape bath number two and the carrier cleaning feeling entirely clean. Get out of the shower to see the puppy standing in a puddle of pee.
Into the tub, just the feet this time. No blow dryer. Into the carrier, clean the crate, back to the crate. Got dressed, put her into the vehicle, drove to my mom's barn, followed her to Santa's house -- where he was hitching Mike (a perchie) to the sleigh carriage. Ah! At last! The puppy hand-off!
Back to mom's to hang with the kids, and see my dad, stepmom, and stepsister. Really nice! Then, along comes St. Nick. HBH stared. Santa said, "Hi kids! I'm back for our ride. And, also, do you remember when I thought there was something alive in the bag yesterday? Well, when I got back home last night, the elves told me that I'd left this beautiful puppy behind! She's meant for HBH and her name is Jasmine."
HBH stared, goggled really, backed away a step, hovered, took a step forward.
Santa went on, "Now HBH, a puppy is a lot of responsibility. And while she's very cute, I want to make sure that you want that kind of present."
Breathless HBH: "Yes, please Santa, I do. Very much."
Puppy transfer number three.
HBH was speechless. I can't remember seeing him speechless before. He held her and kind of swayed a little bit, staring, unable to take it all in. Then he got very teary, overwhelmed, buried his face in her fluffy coat. Raised his head, looked at her, at the room, at us, at Santa, trying again to take it in. Wandered to the kitchen. M followed, to make sure he was ok. He looked at her and started crying, "What just happened in there, Mom?"
He couldn't put her down. So, he wrapped her in a thick fleece blanket and off they went in the carriage with Santa, M, my mom, HCH, and MCH. Perfect.
He is in love. And she is already bonding to him. He's a budding dog whisperer, has gotten their Westie to do things M despaired of ever convincing her to do. His heart grew larger, bolder, more hopeful, less tentative, willing to be fierce in the vulnerability of loving a new puppy.
In case I've not mentioned it, Santa is real.
-Dot
Copyright 2007 Dot's Stuff. All rights reserved, though you do have the right to put out cookies and milk for Santa.