Introducing, The Cutest Little Pupper Named Pepper

THE PUPPY HAS ARRIVED!

If you are hoping for adorable puppy pictures, I apologize. I don't have them. It's not for a lack of trying. Capturing a half-heeler pup on the back porch is like catching lightning in a bottle. Difficult. It's easier to capture the actual puppy than the picture.

There's Pepper. In his back-porch pen this morning around 9:30. There's his house in the background, with the bacon-scented chew toy in front like a just-delivered morning paper. And the brown dog statue from the side porch that Farmer H put there to keep Pepper company. He said Pepper was licking it. Well. Every animal that comes across the porch stops to pee on it. So that's not really something I want to think about.

Pepper has no respect for personal boundaries! And tries to squeeze through narrow spaces intened to keep him out! I picked up Pepper for petting purposes. Then set him down. He was all over the place, though I had to lure him out of his house at first. Pepper got into the laundry room, which was fine, because I had the door to the kitchen closed. After a bit of investigation, I finally shooed him out. 

This does not look like Pepper at all, but since there was no other puppy on the porch, it has to be him! He was howling to be let into the Mansion, heh, heh. Or for Farmer H to come rescue him.

More picking up and petting ensued. Jack came around the kitchen to investigate.

Jack did not seem at all impressed when I held out Pepper over the barrier, like a low-level Lion King proffering, for his inspection.

Tomorrow, I'll tell a little about Pepper's first day and night.

The Universe Sends Genius A Super Bowl Memo

While I sit here awaiting the arrival of my PUPPY, there's a brief update on Genius. 

Aside from my weekly letter, and an occasional text, we don't communicate a lot. Genius is busy working on driverless trucks, and I am busy doing pretty much nothing. Genius called to wish me a happy birthday, and we caught up on things not in my letters.

"The Pony came out for the Super Bowl. We made a batch of Chex Mix, and had a variety of snacks. We had potato skins, and nobody burned their hand on the oven coil!" [In reference to Genius branding himself with the upper coil many Super Bowls ago.]

"We hosted our first big party at our new house. We had 25 people over for the Super Bowl. We have a big projection TV downstairs, and a regular TV upstairs. I was in the kitchen getting the last-minute things done for the food. I made hot wing dip, and everybody brought stuff. I know you won't want to hear this, but I was slicing some focaccia bread, down to the last heel. The knife slipped and sliced through the second knuckle on my left index finger. 

"NOOO! That's terrible! You're right. I don't like to hear that!"

I knew it was pretty bad. But I stayed calm. I put pressure on it, and turned to rinse it. Someone was standing in front of the sink, and I said, 'Could you move over for a minute? I need to get to the sink.' I ran water on it, and called Friend to come get the bloody heel and wipe up blood from the floor. Then I went upstairs to the bathroom to get it cleaned up. I was pretty sure I needed stitches, but with the pressure, the bleeding slowed. I got it bandaged, and went back to enjoy the party. I still don't want to bend it yet, and it interferes with my writing."

Let the record show that Genius is left-handed. Why he was slicing bread with the knife in his right hand, I'll never know. I hate to think about his injury, even now. It's like I can feel the knife sliding through the skin!

It today's letter, I told Genius that The Universe is sending a message. That maybe he should lay off the Super Bowl snacks, and confine himself to mixing the drinks. Somebody else can deal with the food. Or he can order out. A burn and a cut might just be the beginning. He doesn't need a broken bone or a concussion!

Mrs. HM Buys A Puppy Kit

I had to do a little puppy shopping on Tuesday. Just the necessities. Well, except for the food, which Farmer H was getting, and some cedar shavings, which he already has in the garage. The puppy has been eating moist food, with a little bit of dry food, just to try it. I'm not sure what Farmer H got. We used canned food for our other pups when they were tiny. Much to the jealousy of the bigger dogs, who had to be shooed away during the meal.

Anyhoo... I knew we didn't have a collar small enough. And Farmer H "thought" he had a leash from when Lucky was here for a week. I think he gave away Scarlett's leash when he gave away Scarlett. And of course a puppy needs toys!

That's a medium leash, 6 feet. The collar is the smallest they had. I think even with adjustment, it will be too big right now. But our puppy won't be going anywhere but the yard for a while. I think Farmer H said he has to be at least 4 months old before he can have his very special operation. By then, he might grow into that small collar.

The real fun was in picking out the toys! It took me a while. I discarded a round rubber gorilla head with crazy eyes and rope attached. And a flat three-pointed fabric thingy. I know puppies love to chew, so I got the Tuff Bone. I don't particularly care if it cleans his teeth. I think it would be satisfying to chew on, and it seems durable. 

The pig has a squeaker inside, but you have to pinch it in just the right place. It's a softer chew, with a tough fabric finish. The flip-flop is very squeaky! I think the puppy will like that one. He should have enough choices here to keep him from chewing the porch rails. But you never know.

I'm looking forward to our new pet. But I'm sure a lot of worry will come with him!

Just Add Puppy

No more worries about our puppy deal falling through. Farmer H got a call from the puppy-giver a few days ago, assuring him that the promise was still good, despite a brief falling-out. AND, with the puppy's availability moved up a week, Farmer H got right to work making a secure little "pen" for him on the back porch. Of course he did it by coming home early, while I was lying down for my afternoon nap. Which was directly on the other side of the wall where Farmer H was grinding screws into wood until his drill screamed in protest.

Here's the view out the laundry room door:

Looks like Jack is getting the heated water bowl, on the other side of that board. This blue bowl will need to be dumped and rinsed. In fact, it was ICE until mid-morning. We're getting up to 78 degrees today! I might ask Farmer H about that electrical plug. Puppies CHEW! The water will probably be okay from now on, as long as Farmer H fills it each morning. Temps are supposed to stay in the 50s for the daytime.

Farmer H blocked off the openings under the rails, where a puppy might try to squeeze through. Can't have him falling 12 feet to the ground. Or even six feet onto Poolio's deck. I will for sure tell Farmer H to remove that saw blade from the old school desk. Don't want my puppy decapitated if he gets rambunctious!

At first I was worried that there were gaps along the bottom of the rail.

Further investigation revealed that there are rail boards blocking those openings. Part of Farmer H's barricade involves pegboard. Which he says is so Jack and the pup can see and smell each other while the puppy is in captivity.

The house Farmer H was preparing turns out to be just a roof!

It's not real pretty, having been exposed to the weather for many years. But it's a hidey hole, and will have cedar shavings underneath for bedding. It's not the best of puppy prisons, but it will do for a couple of weeks. 

I will be checking on the pup every couple of hours, for picking up and petting. I don't dare take him out on the porch, lest he fall down the steps, or get through the unblocked rails. I'm in no shape to catch a loose puppy!

I'm hoping to lure Jack through the kitchen, into the laundry room, where I can make a proper introduction. Of course Jack will get treats, so he associates the puppy with good times! And by closing the laundry room door behind me, Jack can just chill out in there if he doesn't want to greet the puppy at first. I won't have to worry about him roaming through the Mansion.

This afternoon, I plan to look for some puppy toys at 10Box.

A Super Feast

The Pony came out Sunday, so we could make food for the Super Bowl. We are not football fanatics. Farmer H and I both enjoy watching the occasional game. The Pony has absolutely no interest. But it's the Super Bowl, you know. The name is right there. It's something special. An occasion we can use to prepare a feast of snacks. Farmer H even came home from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) a half-hour early, in time to fill his tray before kickoff at 5:30.

We started working just before noon, since a batch of Chex Mix was in order. Not specifically for the Super Bowl, but because we all like Chex Mix, and the majority of my yearly four batches are given away. The Pony was a great stirrer! I put it all together, and then it was in The Pony's hooves, stirring every 15 minutes for two hours. Nothing stuck to the pans! Great job! Of course half of it was packaged up for The Pony to take home.

Our meal-time snacks were nothing elaborate. Mostly storebought stuff that only needed warming. We had quite the variety. Taquitos and Scoops tortilla chips, for which I made a dipping sauce with salsa and Velveeta cheese. Toasted ravioli and mozzarella cheese sticks, with marinara sauce for dipping. Wedge fries with ketchup or ranch dip (which I made with Hidden Valley powder and sour cream). Potato skins, to which I added some extra shredded cheddar. Little sandwiches of turkey and ham on Hawaiian Rolls, with an assortment of cheeses: cheddar, swiss, muenster, pepper jack, provolone. A frozen Bloomin' Onion, though it was called Petals, and was just the battered pieces. And Little Smokies in BBQ sauce, to which I had added some grape jelly for slow simmering.

Dessert was cheesecake, with assorted varieties, pre-sliced. Brownies and donuts, both storebought. The Pony took home half for later consumption.

We all loaded a big cafeteria-style tray. Of course with so much, I could only have one or two of everything. The Pony took a lot home. We will be feasting on sandwiches this week, after Farmer H finishes off the Little Smokies. I'll add one or two of the other sides, but not the entire feast for regular suppers.

The game itself was not very interesting. A bit one-sided, but the team I picked won. I didn't really care, because my dream team (the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, quarterbacked by Baker Mayfield, who was a star at OU while The Pony was in school there) was knocked out of the playoffs. No Super Bowl for them! Anyhoo... I picked my team at the opening kickoff, solely based upon my preference for the color of the uniform!

At halftime, we switched to watch the Puppy Bowl. Farmer H has not watched a Super Bowl halftime show since Janet Jackson had her wardrobe malfunction. That might be his criteria. If there's not a chance he might see something titillating, he has no desire to sit through a musical performance. I'm pretty sure this year's artist had nothing Farmer H wanted to see accidentally exposed!

I suppose our next feasting opportunity will be Easter. 

Puppy Prepping

The anticipation of a new puppy has everyone excited. Jack has a spring in his step, almost as if he understood when Farmer H and I told him he would be getting a puppy. I think about getting some toys from the pet section of 10Box, and making sure that Farmer H will get puppy food. Farmer H is planning on where to put New Pup.

"I think I'll block off part of the back porch, like I did when we got Grizzly."

"Yeah, that would be better than putting him out on a lead in the side yard. But make sure he can't get through the rail and fall! I don't think puppies understand depth like that."

"He won't fall through the rail! Grizzly didn't."

"And what about the water? If you block the back porch, Jack can't get to the water."

"There's two water dishes. I'll set the old one on the other side."

"That will work, as long as it doesn't freeze. Because the puppy will have the heated water bowl on his side."

"It will be fine."

"What about a house? You built that little box for Grizzly. But we used it for the cats, and the other pups, and it fell apart."

"I'll bring one of them doghouses from the other end of the porch."

"Those are HUGE! It's too big for a puppy."

"No. They're in sections. I can take a section out, and set the roof down lower. Then he can stay warm in a smaller house. I have a bag of cedar shavings in the garage."

"You'll have to clean up his poop! And he'll think it's okay to poop and pee on the porch. So you can't get mad at him if he does it when you let him free."

"He'll learn. Jack will teach him."

I really think Farmer H is the most excited of us all.

My Hoped-For Puppy's Kin

I suppose this pup was meant to come live with us. When Farmer H left the Mansion on Wednesday morning, I had no inkling that his travels might lead to a puppy! He got a call about a relative matter, and went to speak to that person. Who just happened to have FOUR PUPPIES!

I don't know if Farmer H asked for one, or if one was offered. He sent me the text asking, when he knew all along that I've been seeking a companion for Jack. Farmer H has always wanted a puppy. I think that's because he was quite sad when Lucky the rescue dog disappeared after a week (under mysterious circumstances!), and he wants one without a previous life to go (or be taken) back to.

Anyhoo... Farmer H initially told me that these pups were a mix of heeler and beagle. I am skeptical. Their heeler heritage is obvious. At least in three of them. When I saw the mom-dog, I began to doubt the beagle part.

I don't know all my dog breeds, but I don't see much beagle in her. Maybe the shape of the head. Or the the body. The legs look thin. The coloring is off. She may have SOME beagle in her, but I see black and tan, or maybe a mini-pinscher, though she's not quite svelte enough for that, with a coarser coat, and not the stand-up ears. The main thing is, I don't see PIT.

Here's the first pup Farmer H showed me:

I first thought that's the one I wanted. Then came the next picture. 

They are quite adorable. The one we're supposed to get is on the right. I said he looked sad, but Farmer H, who was sitting right there watching them run around, said, "No, he's happy." Then he sent a picture of the last pup.

That's the runt. I have nothing against runts. One of our best dogs, Grizzly, was the runt of a litter of eight pups. I chose him specifically, looking into their pen at the dog pound. He was a beagle/lab mix, midsize, colored like a chocolate lab, but shaped like a beagle. This little guy here is just not the one I prefer, because I like a speckled pup. He seems to take after his mother. 

Nothing special about these pups. They're mixed breed. Might have 57 varieties in there. But I know I want one, and Jack will have a companion. Whether he likes it or not!

Two weeks to go until my new doggie can leave its momma.