Litterbugs

We've been playing the role of dog-less spinsters for years. We'd make pathetic little whining noises whenever we see someone out walking their dog, and god help us if it was a BOXER...that's the best breed there is. The Boxer is ridiculous, dignified, loyal, fiercely intelligent, and on occasion, stupid as a damp sponge. But always a riot of humor.

It's been about nine years since I've shared my home with a four-footie, and that was a dark brindle boxer, in Tucson. I never laughed so hard in my life as I did simply watching her do whatever the hell she did. And it was always with that super-expressive face. Her eyes betrayed every passing thought and you could read it all, like the subtitles in a surreal Bollywood movie.

After all that time, it finally seems safe enough to take the plunge. Marian had found a boxer breeder that had a fresh litter of (mostly) brindles, and within driving distance. Here we go...

The mother looked like a smaller twin of the boxer I had nearly a decade ago in Arizona, and in the spirit world, perhaps she was: I was greeted with crazy enthusiasm, all eye-contact and slurpy-face stuff. A nice welcome from mum.

We sat with the litter for a while. At four weeks of age, all were still sleepy, fat, and happy. All appeared to be in good health and all but two were brindles, which made our job of selecting one even more difficult.

It's a hard job, trying to figure out who's who in a litter of four-week-old pups, over-analyzing every little trait as a sign of its temperament, trying to interpret shades of personalities. But at that young age, most seemed identical. Dammit, they're all perfect little grunting hairy sausages, we can't possibly choose one.

I was beginning to think we'd just forget it, and return in two weeks to see if we could "read" these pups any better. Might as well take some pictures, and see if the clicking camera excites anybody's curiosity.


And then, after taking a few pictures, out trundled this guy. I lifted him and damn, dude, this one's got heft. Not sure if he's really bigger than the rest, but there's something there. Felt like being handed a block of hickory after playing with balsa wood for an hour. Bright eyes and alert; responsive...the man.


A deposit check was written, some technical details discussed, and there we are. Waiting another month before the young nipper is old enough to take home. In the meantime, man, it's time to go shopping. I think we're pregnant.