Puppy Love

I may have mentioned this before, but we have six dogs. I know that puts us firmly in the "white trash" category, especially coupled with my love of the show Cops, but I can live with that. Having six dogs is not something one usually hopes to achieve. Rather, it is something that sneaks up on you, like the flu or excess weight.

When I tell people how many dogs we have I am usually met with a shocked, open mouthed stare. It's almost as if they are trying to figure out what they really heard, because surely they didn't hear the word "six". I then try to downplay my new position as a weirdo with the news that most of them are small. Which they are, kind of.

Three of them are doxies, two are beagles, and the odd man out is a golden retriever. It's the retriever most people focus on. They are such large, exuberant dogs that most people find one all they can handle. To add five more dogs on top of the retriever situation is too much. In my defence though I have to say that I never planned on this. Of course that is what mothers of twelve usually say too, but oh well.

Casey, the retriever, is full of life and energy. Thankfully we have a large lot he can run on because otherwise I'd have to walk him every day. We adopted him from the animal shelter when he was one. He's eleven years old and still loves to go on walks with us.

Bub is a beagle, and I believe he is fourteen. Maybe 15. His owner died and the widow didn't want him, so he came to live with us. Bub is going deaf and blind, but still gets around very well. I know he can still see because he has no trouble locating his food bowl. Every morning he goes out to go potty and comes back in very excited. I'm not sure why.

Clara is the other beagle and is the same age as Bub. Her owner moved to China and couldn't take her, so she came to live with us. She is the only girl dog we have so she holds a special place in my heart. Clara sleeps a lot, but generally has one play session a day. She really enjoys being brushed.

Hans, at twelve, is the eldest of the three doxies. He is also the most energetic of the three. He can outwalk me and goads the others to play with him. Hans plays like he is a puppy, and if it weren't for the grey around his face you might mistake him for a much younger dog. He was bought deliberately, believe it or not.

Willy looks like Benji. He has the most mournful look on his face all the time. He is a wire haired, so he stands out. Willy is the result of a visit to a breeder with a friend. The friend was looking for a dog. Guess who ended up with one? Willy is ten and still not going grey. I don't understand it.

Last, we come to Taz. Or Spaz. He's not the brightest bulb in the package, if you know what I mean. He is eight, and therefore the baby of the bunch. He is also the most rotund. We have tried diet food, limiting his food and exercise. Nothing helps. He's just fat. Nevertheless, he is very loving and friendly. He loves to be rubbed on the tummy and will sleep right up against me if I let him.

Despite all the canine companionship around here I have been smitten with puppy love. I have developed a strong desire for a pomeranian puppy. I've never been a puppy person, preferring to get my dogs after the house breaking is done, but for some reason I want a puppy. Call it senility. Sadly, my love will go unrequited for a while. My husband has declared a moratorium on dogs until some of the current ones die off. And given their robust health, that won't be happening any time soon.