duck-shaped pain

There's a new puppy in my life, who has also been occupying some of my time. It's the same puppy that my mom got at the pound a few weeks back -- still little, still cute, still wiggly as all get out.

Hank is welcome where she's living now, but she's moving out in a few weeks, and attempts to find a place to live where she could keep a ever-growing ball of wiggle were unsuccessful. A friend of hers who lives in a cabin up in thae San Juan Mountains offered to keep him, but the offer was declined when it was discovered that hungry bears roamed free near the cabin. Hank's a little young to become part of the Cycle of Life right now. So I offered to take him.

So far, so good, sort of. Hoover, the older dog, hasn't completely freaked out over the introduction of Hank, instead choosing to sit in the yard and sulk over the great injustice that has been done to him. Hank, however, is completely fascinated by Hoover, following him around at every chance and smelling every odor he has to offer. Aren't dogs great?

Casualties so far:

• One old shoe

• One beer and its glass

• One oregano plant (on its last legs anyway)

• Any dignity Hoover had left