(NB: with the recent strength of Canadian words, the exchange rate means these pictures each speak 1044 words)
We got a new fridge because the old one kept milk at exactly the right temperature to make yoghurt. And ...
Ben got a hot new hairdo, a gift from Santa. Keep your hands off my kid, girls.
And ...
Finally, after much agonizing, delaying, and wondering, Anne and I decided to have another baby:
Yes, people, it's Anne's patented Love-muffin pose.
And now we are five.
And ...
Finally, after much agonizing, delaying, and wondering, Anne and I decided to have another baby:
Say hello to Charlot (what the French called Charlie Chaplin ... believe me it fits). Although right now he's still known by his slavename Crousti. Yeah. We know. He's a dog, not a breadstick. Although I think he probably likes breadsticks.
We spent a lot of the fall talking about dogs, we went to a couple of pet shows in the last two months, and we'd pretty much settled on getting a Brittany Spaniel, although we had some major misgivings. One was worrying about how much energy it was going to take to raise and train a dog as high-maintainence as Brittanys can be. But we were ready for that in the end. The other problem, though, had us visiting a couple of local pounds this week because both Anne and I were wondering about the moral issues surrounding the breeding of dogs when, in our tiny corner of the world, there are over a hundred dogs without homes. So we started looking, and on Thursday, we saw a picture of this little fireplug and we visited him the next day (just the two of us). He was being fostered outside of the pound by a lovely Dutch woman named Joanna. Crousti had been brought in at eight weeks by the neighbour of his alcoholic owner, who'd finally decided the pup was too much work. Ten days at the Port-La-Nouvelle pound made Crousti almost insane, so Joanna, a volunteer, took him on and started to train him. One month later, she felt he was ready for the world, and at that moment precisely, we happened to be surfing the pound's site ...
Yesterday, we told the boys we wanted to take them to see a jewel Mama was interested in. "A diamond?!" they asked. "No," we said, "a black and white jewel." We showed them a picture of Crousti in the car on the way there and they were sold even before they met him. Ben wept tears of joy the whole way there, grabbing Maxime and kissing him.
Ohmigod we have a dog we have a dog we have a dog
(hey ... what are we going to drive our parents crazy about now?)
We spent a lot of the fall talking about dogs, we went to a couple of pet shows in the last two months, and we'd pretty much settled on getting a Brittany Spaniel, although we had some major misgivings. One was worrying about how much energy it was going to take to raise and train a dog as high-maintainence as Brittanys can be. But we were ready for that in the end. The other problem, though, had us visiting a couple of local pounds this week because both Anne and I were wondering about the moral issues surrounding the breeding of dogs when, in our tiny corner of the world, there are over a hundred dogs without homes. So we started looking, and on Thursday, we saw a picture of this little fireplug and we visited him the next day (just the two of us). He was being fostered outside of the pound by a lovely Dutch woman named Joanna. Crousti had been brought in at eight weeks by the neighbour of his alcoholic owner, who'd finally decided the pup was too much work. Ten days at the Port-La-Nouvelle pound made Crousti almost insane, so Joanna, a volunteer, took him on and started to train him. One month later, she felt he was ready for the world, and at that moment precisely, we happened to be surfing the pound's site ...
Yesterday, we told the boys we wanted to take them to see a jewel Mama was interested in. "A diamond?!" they asked. "No," we said, "a black and white jewel." We showed them a picture of Crousti in the car on the way there and they were sold even before they met him. Ben wept tears of joy the whole way there, grabbing Maxime and kissing him.
Ohmigod we have a dog we have a dog we have a dog
(hey ... what are we going to drive our parents crazy about now?)
We think Crousti's part spaniel, part terrier (Jack Russell), and to judge from his teeth, part shark. We took him home yesterday afternoon. After exploring the house at his own pace and romping through the artichokes, he seemed to give us his seal of approval. He sat in his little dogbed while we ate supper (thank you Joanna!) and then slept happily in his kennel in our room overnight. No barking, soiling, marking of territory ... just a happy pup surrounded by people who want him. And apart from some overenthusiastic nipping and a tendency not to hear his masters' voices when he's got something more interesting to do, he's a very easy little guy. I taught him to sit still this afternoon with a few pieces of cheese: he'd agree to sit, quake as he tried not to leap for the food; then I'd move back five paces while telling him not to move, and then tell him to come, and he came (after a couple of tries) for his treat. Once we'd done this a few times, I decided that was enough for the time being, and went to read a book and he immediately came over and sat down smartly, like he was doing a demonstration, and stared at me expectantly. Hey bud, here I am, sitting my little heart out. Where's my frikkin' cheese? So he's clever, too. I think we love him.
Anne and I, who have some sad and loving memories of Bailey, have been ready for a dog for a long time. But it's hard to imagine any creature taking her place. However, judge for yourselves from the picture below: are we off to a good start?
Anne and I, who have some sad and loving memories of Bailey, have been ready for a dog for a long time. But it's hard to imagine any creature taking her place. However, judge for yourselves from the picture below: are we off to a good start?
And now we are five.
