Before the weekend, I invited friends to come with us to Robertsport. "We can't," they said. "We just got a new puppy." I thought this was a bit lame, and as we discussed plans for meeting up this week, I inwardly rejoiced at our freedom.
When we got back from Robertsport on Monday, there was a puppy waiting for us on the stoop. More accurately, I saw that there was a puppy running around the garden and tried to make friends with it while it tried to run away. I have longer legs, so I cornered the small animal behind our bag of rice and forced it to eat white bread soaked in milk. As you can see, it is very small and according to Nate, kind of gross.
The next morning, Myers explained that the puppy was a gift from his Oma/"old ma" and that it doesn't have a name yet. It still doesn't - Myers and I are thinking of one. But two days later, the puppy has been bathed, eats dry dog food and wiggles around a lot. I look for it when I peer out the window and it licks my legs when I get out of the car. Last night, it got a piece of soup bone wedged between the teeth of its palate and pawed at its face, whining, until Nate tugged the bone out with my tweezers.
In this photo, we are trying to feed it shrimp heads and skins. Nate keeps chasing it away from the door. I am constantly putting on my flip flops, going outside to pet it, and then coming in to wash my hands. It's fun to have the puppy around.