Well, we've had two months of peace. Two months of very little dog-work. Two months of sleeping through the night, walking a peaceful (for the most part), well-trained (for the most part), easy-going (sort of), healthy (though aging! gulp) dog a couple of times a day, and two months of freedom to go out at night to listen to music if we so choose (and we have so chosen).
So why are we now disturbing all that? Who knows? Because we are not Prufrock? We dare disturb the universe!
Tonight after work we are driving to one of the southern suburbs to look at a trio of Australian cattle dog mix pups. Three little girls. Two of them are all black, and one has a nice white tuxedo belly.
If one of them strikes us like lightening, we will come home with her. If not, we know of some other pups we might consider.
Yesterday Doug came home from a stop at Petco with a big kennel that is now in our front hallway. I went down the basement and rooted around in King Tut's Tomb and emerged with a tiny red collar (baby Riley's), a little puppy dish (baby Toby's) and a lightweight mesh leash (baby Boscoe's).
It's quiet and peaceful this morning. Gentle rain. Riley snoring under the table. I'm about to walk him and then leave for work, like any other day. Yesterday morning when I left he was lying on a dog blanket on the couch, sleeping, chasing rabbits in his dreams.
He has no idea what we are about to do to him.