/ pets

One Week

Hooper has been in our house, and our lives, for one week now. I have a week's worth of memories, that include racing to a peeing dog; picking up poop -- both outside and inside; checking under Hoop's belly for evidence of a pee stream in the black of night; begging him to walk as he stares at me on the sidewalk; begging him to stop nipping me in the midst of one of his freak-out sessions; petting and stroking his beautiful coat; sniffing: me him, and he me as well as various piles of poo and god knows what else outside; stressing about his play skills with the two month-old puppy around the corner; stressing about his hips; stressing about how much room he has to play in our living room; joy over being a part of teaching him his first command, "sit"; the ADD feeling of trying to read seven (yes, seven) dog training/care books at once; the despair of listening to him whine; the pride in his farts.

I know Primo was a failure, but I still have a few names I wish I could call him: Coppa, Stugots, and--my personal fave--Guidry (look them all up; great names inspire research). But I guess he's Hooper now and forever, since he actually looks at me when I call him that half the time.

Today, Hoop decided that he's afraid of bicyclists. When he sees or hears one approaching, he stops dead in his tracks, and watches the apparently demonic mechanical cyborgs roll past. Once they pass, he's up on his feet and ready to walk again. I know it's a passing phase, but today's discovery was akin to Mr. Holland the music teacher discovering his son Cole was deaf.

There are about a thousand other little gestures, smells, discoveries, fears and observations, that have been absorbed this week. I can't believe this is happening. I love this, and I love Guidry--I mean, Hooper. (oh, he just stretched and as he did so, his paws patted my feet. How cute.)

We're gonna go pee now.