Gone to the dogs
For forty-eight hours, this squirmy little beastie ruled the roost at my house. Phineas aka Finny is a four month old, blue heeler mixed pup who belongs to one of my best friends. As he hasn't had all of his puppy shots yet and his doggy dad was going out of town for the weekend, I volunteered to host Puppy Vegas at my home. And how could you say no to a cute face like this? What they say about good things coming in small packages is true. However, they don't tell you that small things have really tiny bladders too. With potty breaks every two hours and tiny, curious puppy teeth, my weekend was spent chasing after the pitter patter of little feet.
After countless games of fetch and tug-of-war, Finny would crash hard for around an hour or two, recharging his batteries and be ready to play again. But he was also content lounging next to me on the couch (no matter how many times I tried to stop him) while I read a book, dozing and stretching and passing oh-so-lovely puppy gas. Finny's dad must have told him to be on his best behavior because there were no potty accidents in the house and he slept in his crate at night without crying. Although the house seems so much more quiet without him tonight, I can once again leave my electrical cords dangling, put food and drinks on my coffee table, and not set my alarm for pee breaks in the middle of the night. Finny, I'm happy to be your Aunt Rooth and remember, what happens in Puppy Vegas, stays in Puppy Vegas.