Fever Pitch

Puppy Fever, that is. Seriously, is this some rampant, mutant, species-shifted version of my biological time clock revving into overdrive? I mean, I'm 39, don't have kids, have never wanted to have kids. Love my stepson, adore my niece and nephew, have no desire to actually give birth to one of those strange, hairless, human puppies. Frankly, the whole idea of another sentient being living in my body completely freaks me out. Total wiggins.

But puppies!! Soft, fuzzy, adorable puppies. Tiny, padded paws; puppy breath; the funny little yips they make; the way they look so surprised when they chomp onto a tail and discover it's their own. The way they are racing at full speed one minute, then dead-to-the-world sound asleep the next. All of the untapped potential in that little bundle of fur, just waiting for the proper environment and motivation to bring it to the fore. I can't get enough of the wee little devils.

You'd think that all of the wonderful pictures along the daily tour of the blogosphere would be enough to hold me over. Puppies, puppies everywhere - tiny babies; roly-poly, ready-to-go-home, floppy-eared fuzzballs; 3 and 4 month-old growing-into-legs kids; 6 month-olds starting their show careers... there are new photos daily. I should be content with that. Photos don't chew my woodwork or pee on the carpet two minutes after they come in from the yard. They don't wake me up and force me to stagger outside, bathrobe clutched tightly, at 2:00 in the morning. But no. The fever rages unabated.

And it's not like it has been that long since I was on this ride. Elli came home a few days before Christmas last December. Ian came (albeit not as a puppy) the December before. And December? NOT the best time to housebreak a puppy. Especially when the puppy's arrival is followed by THREE FREAKING FEET of snow. Hmm. Legs a few inches long... three FEET of snow. Yeah. Definitely need to shovel a pee spot. Oh, and those below zero temperatures? Those are fun.

Yet, does any of this deter me from wanting a puppy, like, yesterday? Nope. Especially now, when the bitch I'm waiting on to be bred is ready to go into season any second. If there is any sort of arcane, make-lots-of-puppies rituals in any world culture out there, I will find it. Easy pregnancy, lots of girl babies... easy pregnancy, lots of girl babies...

And then throw in the added challenge of not being such a total, spazzed-out, puppy-hungry freak that Joanna runs screaming in the other direction when she sees my email addy in her in-box. Because needy and overzealous? SO not attractive.

So: take a deep breath. Take a couple aspirin. Take a couple bottles of valium if necessary. When the time is right, the right puppy will come along. Until then, get Ian ready for the November trials, and get Elli steady on the table. Rent a steam cleaner and start off with a newly shampooed carpet for the baby to pee on. Get some paint and repair the woodwork from the last onslaught of little needle puppy teeth. Get a grip.

o_o

*easy pregnancy, lots of girl babies... easy pregnancy, lots of girl babies...*

Baby Elli is in there somewhere...