After last week's Decompression/Limbo Contest, the fun this week has been getting the jobs/housing/moving projects in gear (I am thinking of something resembling Howl's Moving Castle...) - and that's left little time for posts. This will be corrected this weekend.
On Wednesday, Noodley left for his new life, with a gift baggie of his toys, treats and bones, and our patient's two favorite small blankets (which, I assure you, he knows very well). Something familiar to burrow into. The farewell was dry-eyed, but warm - can't guarantee what will happen when I see him again, though. Reunions could be weekly.
Thanks to my readers for all the comments and mails these last two weeks - you are all golden.
[Update: Dropped in on Noodley Friday afternoon (he has a whole needlepoint shop to patrol now), and his sang-froid was remarkable - boy is not pining at all. His new mistress is a bit disconcerted by his aplomb - compared to more slavish canines, N seems to her inexpressive. She is also discovering his native dachshund stubborness. To me, he is looking comfortable, a bit miffed at all the changes in his life, but putting up with the inevitable. Good boy!
Having been sequestered with me and the Old Lady for such a long time, I am eager to find out how he responds to the society of the Dog Park - nearly 6 years old and never met a bitch in heat....hmmmmm. Late bloomer.]
3 comments:
you are a schtah, dahling.
Kisses, just because.
I think teh likes you.
I want a puppy!
I like teh, 2!
As for puppies, you should check out SZ's adventures lately at her place. I never had those trials with Noodley, but all the Poms I've ever met were goofy.
I'm still thinking I sense my N-Boy's presence now that he's not here. It's not creepy; I just miss him. He's extremely fortunate in having a new mistress who can take him to work with her. I would have loved to have inherited him, but I wouldn't have been able to shlep him with me to any job I'm likely to get, and that would have been deeply disturbing to both of us.
Had a talk with a good friend in Chicago about this, long ago. He'd had his doggie for 10-11 years - his bond with her ran deep and there was no way he wouldn't see it through until she died. You adopt a puppy, in other words, and you have to be prepared to see it through it's whole life cycle, or you shoiuldn't do it in the first place.
Same with cats, really, though their maintenance is different. All I can say is that the creakiest old Siamese can turn spry when he sees the flea-dip coming...:-)
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