Meet the Newest Member of Our Pack!
All we needed was a little puppy love ...
But a fair amount of puppy love goes a long way.
I picked up our new Pomeranian today! His name is Enzo (EDIT: Gyro Jack) and he's a sweetheart.
The breeder transported the puppies in a large leather purse; our pup was happy to sit in my purse. I'll poke around Amazon to see if I can find a carry bag to review.
The photo above is my first snapshot of our little guy. He rolled into the soft folds of the dog booster seat. No need for the treats. He was fast sleep once we hit the highway.
So many tolls! I dropped my debit card at one of them. I pulled forward to reach it. And then I had an Epic Fail. SPAT! The woman in the car behind me came rushing over to help me to my feet again. The rough concrete tore into my arm, endangering my tattoo. She also showed me how to use the toll payment system. I felt so damn old.
AND THEN... There was one rest stop that sent my geriatric setting from a crisp 53 to a horrible 80. I ducked in to piss and maybe get a bite to eat. These are massive stops that are packed with gift shops and fast food chains. I got something for the puppy and me.
Everyone wanted to pet him. He loved it. On the way, there were to children nest to a large tote bag. Could they pet him? Certainly! In trade, they opened up the tote to reveal their own pet - a chicken. She was a polite bird and let me pet her.
I exited and Jack found a spot to poop in. As I was bent over and scooping it into a bag, I lost my equilibrium and fell forward. It upset Jack. He licked my face and whined. Dude, you're about to get trained to become a service (not therapy) dog!
I had nothing to hold onto so I could get off the grass. Several people ran to me once Jack started barking, and they helped me stand. I made to the grassy patch between sidewalk and parking lot before losing balance again. I assured everyone that this was a balance issue. It doesn't affect my brain and ability to drive. *(Unspoken - I can't find or form words if these episodes get bad enough, and I get confused sometimes.)
It was a four hour drive there and back again. By the 8th hour, I was tempted to just pull over and sleep. I called home to get an opinion, and we agreed that I should nap. But soon the road looked very familiar. I pulled into the rest stop between Empire and East Liverpool - nothing there but bathrooms and picnic tables. I knew this ground well. Home was only 10 minutes away.
Jack's new pack are comprised of a gaggle of wonderful personalities. They accepted him. I was so relieved about that!
And now, ladies and gents, I need to go to bed. Long day was loooong day.
Jack's official name is Cracker Jacques Cousteau. You know, because Cracker Jacks look like pom fur. You could say this, but you would be wrong. This does not resemble a Pomeranian:
