Wednesday, August 5, 2009

The time came to get another dog.

After meeting some Corgis and scouting out the mutts at a local animal shelter, I decided what I really wanted was to get a Sheltie puppy again. So, I emailed most of the Sheltie breeders in Oregon and ended up with leads on some litters that would be available in the fall, one litter of seven-week-old puppies that would be available in a week, and a pair of thirteen-week-old puppies that had been meant to be show dogs but were turning out too large. The seven-week-olds were down south of Eugene, and the thirteen-week-olds were up north of Portland. I made appointments to meet them both.

My experience with the seven-week-olds was pretty much the same experience I had meeting Patrick -- the puppy was annoying (although, I found that endearing since it reminded me of Patrick as an annoying puppy) and the adult mother was lovely.

The thirteen-week-olds were completely different. By that age, the puppies are starting to look and act like little Shelties instead of wriggly, toothy, little balls of fluff. They're old enough that personality differences between the two puppies were readily apparent. And, even better, they were already trained to sleep through the night. So, when I brought Quinn home, he was already, in some ways, the best behaved dog in the house.

So, now, when our dog pack rushes the door or tears around the yard, there is -- as there should be -- a fluffy but dignified, high-stepping, orange Sheltie in the mix.

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