This is Huck, my new puppy. Names are hard, and I hope I don't regret this one like I do my cat's name. My grey/brown tabby is named Yoda because when he was a baby he had ear mites so his ears were flat, like Yoda. He did not grow up to be wise or green, though, so the name doesn't quite work. Also, a little mitricide and his ears were no longer flat. My little sister came up with Huckleberry Finn for the dog. She also came up with Moby, which is our second choice, but this dog does not seem quite sad enough for Moby. I thought maybe Puck, from A Midsummer's Night Dream, but I think the well-intentioned mischief of Huck Finn describes this guy a little better.
Huck is thirteen weeks old and he reminds me more of a two-year-old kid than of, say, my very low-maintenance cat, who, by the way, is Not. Thrilled. with the new addition to the household. In fact, if the dog so much looks in his direction, he hisses. Splendid. So much of my dream of having them cuddle up by the fire together.
Huck requires constant attention to make sure that he does not chew things that he is not supposed to chew. Like the television cord (now safely coated with Bitter Apple), law review articles (though I think Huck might be putting them to their highest and best use), and novels (Cry, the Beloved Country! is now merely the Beloved Country!). He has also found some old change and document clips to chew.
In order to combat our little guy's destructive side, I take him on a half-mile jog/walk in the morning and I take him outside to visit the neighbor dogs (and "eliminate") a few times a day. This makes him pretty tired, which makes my life considerably easier. I can actually get things done when he's asleep rather than chasing chew toys all over the house.
I have to say, all this work does not make having kids look good.
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