Purple Tinted Glasses

Dog walking has become the first thing I do in the morning instead of the last thing I do before I leave the house. It holds me accountable for the number of times I press the snooze button instead of getting mad at the dog for making me late out the door. Well, I was still getting annoyed this morning because it was cold… and Boz wouldn’t just do his business.

I was fussing something at him like, “If you’re not gonna go, then we’re gonna go.” (I enjoy speaking to the dog as though he’s a small child that might one day understand and respond to all the complicated phrases that I ‘bark’ at him on a daily basis.) Anyway, as I’m walking down Dauphine, my eyes and mind concentrated on the dog doing doo-dooties, I look up and what do I see? Well, THE Oscar Meyer Weinermobile of course…

How random… in a historic neighborhood with stoops and wooden windows. My eyes lit up like a kid last Christmas morning (this year Santa’s mutual funds ate the big one and even though coal is much more affordable than last year, you won’t even get that in your stocking). I just laughed at myself because my crabby morning mood was crushed by a big yellow and red weenie! It’s definitely much more stimulating than the occasional faint sweet smell that drifts down from the Hubig’s Pie factory, but hey, that’s become the norm.

This weekend was pretty busy. Moving, holidays, more moving.

Of everything that happened, the one thing that stands out the most is the dog jumping out the car window… while it was moving… on the 4th. This was shortly after a conversation at my mom’s about how dogs don’t jump out the back of pick up trucks. Apparently my dog missed the memo about moving vehicle safety.

He’s ok. Boz is a tough cookie. He was limping for a while and sat on my lap for the rest of the day in the car. By yesterday afternoon he was putting pressure back on all fours. This morning he was good as new. He’s a smart dog, except he likes to jump out of moving vehicles and strangle himself on the leash when he sees another dog.

Oh, Bosceaux.

I finally did it… with a little coaxing from a lot of people.

All I wanted to do on Saturday was finally get in some of my community duty for the rollergirls. Instead, (well, in addition) I decided it would be cool to foster this sweet dog that had been eying me up from the get go. I filled out the papers, I brought him home… and although it hasn’t happened yet, he will officially be adopted by the end of the week at the latest (I think)

Will thought it would be pretty cool if we adopted him today, since it’s the anniversary day (just 10 months, not a year) and today is also the day that has something to do with Darwin and the H.M.S. Beagle … or maybe that was yesterday. I don’t know. Scratch that - reverse it.

Yep, that’s right. I’m joining the elite group of people called “dog owners” or the puppy cult. Am I crazy? Maybe. Have I fallen in love with my foster pet? Uh… yeah. Although, I think Mr. Panic is becoming pretty attached himself.

So without further ado… world, meet Bosceaux, Bosceaux, meet the 3 people who read my blog:

I’ll let Panic fill you in on the specifics of his name.