Talk about life changing… in the last 24 hours our world has been turned upside down by the arrival of a 12 lb, moustached baby we finally agreed to call — Guinness.
We’ve been wanting a dog for a while but when we heard about a 17-week old, Miniature Schnauzer who was a purebred, registered, chipped and already house-trained puppy, we just had to see him. We spent most of the day with the pup and the breeder getting instructions on bathing, clipping and basic commands. After an overwhelming amount of information about his parentage and breed, the owner sent us on our way to go outfit our home with everything our new pup would need.
(It should be noted that the last time we seriously bought anything from a pet store was at least ten years ago and so it came as quite a shock to see bejewelled leashes, dishes, bedding and every funky treat and toy imaginable. We had to dig through mountains of neoned coloured brushes and leashes to find something plain… no foo-foo stuff for our guy!)
So with a trunk full of must-haves, back we go to pick up Higgins, MacDubh, Saxon, Barley, Murdoc, Duncan, Dougal, Lochy, Madagen or Guinness. At one point we took a break from all the shopping to sit down over a beer and discuss the serious ramifications and stigmas of picking a name. We originally liked Saxon a lot, but thought calling his short name might be construed as yelling for SEX, which might be fitting for some, but after looking at his little face and noticing his stoutness of character and stance, we agreed on Guinness.
Well Guinness puked in the car on the long journey home (poor little guy) and I in turn just about joined him (poor little guy). The last 24 hours have consisted of us doing nothing else but getting him set up: a poop area in the yard (yes we even brought home a baggie of his poop from the breeder, so that he could recognize his scent on our lawn) with multiple trips in and out just to make sure. The biggest trick is to get him used to his new name and his surroundings, so we have basically alternated sitting with him in one area of the house. The first night he cried a bit but seemed to sleep through, even if we didn’t sleep as well. We had to go out to the pet store again the next day to get a better cuddly and of course it was a well-debated decision — should we get the giraffe or the ducky? He’s very interested in chewing plants, walking between our legs, getting behind furniture and exercising those baby teeth on our fingers.
I had somehow assumed we could bring him home and quickly settle back into regular life, like homework, reading, computing, cooking and the usual day-to-day stuff, but it is not happening. In fact we have neglected just about everything else to talk about how cute he is, how temperate and smart he is and to marvel at his poops in the yard. Ah crazy pet owners. I hate those people who talk about their pets like they are their children, and we don’t want to be those people either but it’s hard not to want to show him off! By the way, we bought the ducky….Check out our little bundle of Guinness at: Flickr