So, Fenton left with Pam yesterday, off to luxurious digs in Aspen, where he is no doubt up to his floppy ears in chicken tenders and famous rock star admirers. Did I mention that he got a pedicure before his trip? Oh yes, it came with the stitches.
Anyway, without the undisputed ringleader of the Houston ranch (hey Katherine, surely you can come up with a better name for us?) wolfhounds, you would think that things would be settling down around here. Not so much. Today was the day the puppy needed to go to the vet for more shots. We took a little walk in the morning, to try and, um, minimize the chances that he would pee in the car, or on the linoleum in the vet's office. He loves to pee on linoleum. The walk was a bit of a joke, it mostly involved the puppy trying to chew on my legs, but it was a walk nonetheless.
Then I went to get the puppy in the car. That didn't interest him, but Rose hopped right in! We did get him in, but whatever magic Pam's car works on this puppy is not present in my car. She claims he goes right to sleep in the car. Nooooo..... He did well at the vet's office, once we carried him in the door. Okay, he did fall off the exam table. But he got the shot! Mission accomplished!
The shocking development of the day was the boycott, though. That's right, I tried to take the dogs on a walk, and they refused. Just sat there, on the porch, looking at me like I was mad. The puppy whined a little, cocked his head. And sat there. I've never seen that happen before.
Don't worry, I won the walk war later. The key was biscuits. How could I forget about the power of biscuits?