Dogs, dogs, dogs

We spend lots of time in the backyard, my golden buddies and me. We are house training the 11 week old puppy. He's getting it but slowly. Nothing good happens overnight. That's one of the real things dogs teach me. They live in the real world, no computers, no deadlines, no corporate committees. 

I bought a new dryer yesterday and based the decision on the size of the lint trap. The dryer Consumer Reports recommended, with its snazzy stainless steel lining, had a very small lint trap. I couldn't imagine what would happen when we washed the first load of dog towels. Where would all that hair and lint go?

I felt compelled to explain to the salesman that I had children first and wasn't one of those crazy dog people. But even I wondered about that. 

Reborn

New e-mail. New puppy. New spring. New blog. New "0" birthday coming up four weeks from today.

Seems like a good time to start over. At one writer's conference I went to a long time ago, the speaker compared writers to trapeze artists. They have to let go of the old trapeze before they can grab onto the new. I am ready, finally, to let go. 

The puppy is Ben, 11 weeks old today. He is large and physical, the complete opposite of Scout who loves playing with him. She weighs 53 pounds at 19 months and he will, I think, top out at 75.  He is not yet registered. The breeder is moving very slowly on this and it makes me nervous. I like to have the i's dotted and the t's crossed when it come to this kind of stuff.   He will be Bear Creek's Chill Out, I think, when we do register him. 

Four dogs is a lot of dogs, especially in mud season. They all want ME, or Tom, if he is in charge,  and they don't want to share.