Puppy Love

So we borrowed a puppy – my sister’s  -- for the night. He arrived shortly before I was due to take an important long-distance work call, half of which he spent sitting on my lap, tail swishing against my note-taking arm, paws plonking on the computer keyboard. The other half he spent barking loudly at squirrels in the garden – so loudly in fact that I had to explain the situation to the caller, run out of the room, and shout STOP IT at top volume. The caller was indulgent. It felt a lot less politically fraught than it does when I have to do the same thing to the children. Otherwise, it was exactly like having a new baby. He woke up at 4am, then again at around 6am. He liked being played with pretty constantly, and made a lot of noise when bored. There was poo to clear up, and lots of picking things off the floor to stop them being chewed. The only difference was that you couldn’t just leave him swinging in a baby bouncer when he needed exercise, you needed to take him for walks. He did, however, display constant devotion, tail wagging, rolling over to be tickled, leaping onto my lap at every opportunity. And the girls were ecstatic. By the end of the visit, he had been so heavily love-bombed that he seemed to be suffering from exhaustion. Niice as it is to get plenty of attention and appreciation, it can be a bit tiring.