On Tuesday we arrived home to find a big box toppled over on our living room floor. It was wrapped in green striped paper and it had huge a red bow on it, but the package had been ripped open and there was a bag of puppy food spilling from it. There was a note attached that said,
"Dear Lori, Hap, Murphy, Simon, Marshmellow and Cheeky,
I heard you saying that you wanted another puppy. This little guy lost his Mama and needs a home, so I thought he should come live with you.
Murphy just looked at it and exhaled "Duh?" Simon started jumping up and down, screaming, "I told you! I told you didn't I, that Santa would bring me a puppy. I told you! Now where is he?" Just at that moment Cheeky & the Pup came running 'round the corner and all sorts of gleeful, happy-happy, joy-joy, commenced. Simon immediately christened him "Sparky" then announced, "I'm just so happy that this isn't a dream. It's really real."
We've spent the last few days watching puppy T.V., cuddling and napping with the puppy and remembering all the other stuff that's synonymous with "puppy" like teething and housebreaking.
Twelve week old Sparky is a wonderfully laid back mix of miniature pinscher, bassett hound and beagle. He's pretty quiet but he does have that funny hound dog bark. He was bottle fed from 3 weeks, so he's super cuddly. Cheeky loves him, but is quite territorial about her "things". He can mess with anything in the house, but if he even gets near one of her squeaky toys (that she hasn't played with in months, btw), she starts growling and showing her teeth. Mostly though, she's entertained by her new baby brother.
That's what Santa was thinking. "Cheeky needs a dog."
(btw...Sparky was one of 8 needing a home. There are still a few that would love to come live with you!)