About a week before Christmas Nik looked at me and said, “We need to talk about something.”
Shit. I’m usually in trouble about something when he says that. I braced myself and reminded him it’s a bitch to get out of a mortgage in NY. (Aren’t I helpful?)
Instead, he asked me what I thought about getting a puppy for Christmas instead of the pots and pans we’d talked about.
Um, okay! I had the website of the group I wanted to work with up and on my phone before he could finish his statement.
The first challenge was that he wanted a German Shepard and I wanted a Lab…You know what? There’s more to this part of the story, but I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that on a warmish Sunday between bouts of me barfing, we went to pick out a pup from one of the East Coast Adoption foster centers.
We came home with this little pupski. She didn’t have a name for the first day and a half, I’d call her “baby girl” or “pupski”. Nik called her “little shit” or “poops mcgee”. Since she was the pup Nik wanted, I got to name her. (I wasn’t allowed to name her Fenway though. Anything but that.)
Monday, he went back to work and I started house training and looking for a name. While we were outside walking up and down the driveway, around the yard, etc I’d call out random names I liked. ANNA! (nothing) OPTIMUS PRIME! (nothing), GRETA! (nope) ZELDA? (not even a flinch) among others.
Then when she was trying to eat another nugget of bunny poop, I yelled “No! MAZZY! Get over here!” and she stopped in her tracks. Then she looked at me and begrudgingly trotted over.
Mazzy Ryan B* it is.
She’s sweet, loves us even when she gets yelled at, a super good cuddler, and smart-ish. She hasn’t met a person or dog she hasn’t liked (yet), is learning to be good with the girls and not to pee inside. She likes carrots, strawberries, dog cookies, fake bacon pieces, and ice. She’s killed 2 squeekers, her first rawhide is almost gone, and is getting better about nipping/chewing us. She’s lived with us for 2 weeks and it feels like I’ve known her forever.
So about that Move More. I’ve walked more in the last 2 weeks than I did in the last months. Maybe not, but we’ve covered miles in the driveway and loops around the lawn, walked almost all the way to the fire hall, practiced a little running, and play chase a bit. I’ve also cut back drastically on the crap and the mindless eating because I can’t share with her. I suspect that as she gets a little bigger, we’ll hike in the woods, learn to play fetch in the yard, and when it’s warmer, cool off in the creek.
She’s a great little buddy and hopefully she loves us as much as we love her.
She’s totally better than new pots and pans.
![Mazzy](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/49341079823_c1b5735c91_z.jpg)