Aahhh, puppies. BLECH!!!!

On Thanksgiving night, my hubby decided to add a new member to our family (which I've already talked about in a previous post).  A cute, four legged, brown, furry, blue-eyed, laid back and loveable member we named Karma. Because we had a major blowout on the way home with her and had to rearrange the car to get the flat and everything else back in.  (Looooong story.) The first comment out of my hubby's mouth was, "That dog's got bad karma or something." Ding-ding-ding!!! Perfect name. Two days later, he decided she needed a buddy; so, her hyperactive, black, furry, LOUD littermate came to live with us too.  Now, we already have a full grown, un-neutered, male basset hound 

and both the new pups are female. (YIKES!!) Hubby has the bright idea that everybody will want basset/lab/walker hound pups.  NOT HAPPENING. Somebody will draw the short straw and go to the vet. (Sorry, Storm.)

Hubby's next idea actually sounded pretty good to me.  He wants me to train both new pups for hunting dogs.  I LOVE the sound of that.  You see, I grew up with dogs.  I love dogs.  I also helped my dad train and breed bird dogs for years.  I truly relish the idea.  UNTIL . . . our little black puppy made us realize that some dogs are true challenges.  Mojo (her current name) should've been named HOUDINI.  She has escaped our chain link fenced in back yard EVERY DAY at some point since the day we got her.  Our lovely fenced in enclosure is beginning to look like an episode of Sanford & Son.  We've got scrap lumber, metal fence posts, an upside-down little tikes slide and numerous HUGE rocks up against the fence all over the yard.  Yet, she STILL manages to escape.  The funny part is that she always runs to the back door and sits and whines to be let back in.  She doesn't run off--she runs around to get back in the fence through the gate.  What a doofus . . .

Now, flashback to last Thursday night.  Hubby is on his way home and he calls me as usual.  He says, "I have one of your other Christmas presents and I'm giving it to you early."  I was fixing to ask what he was bringing me when I heard a sound that brought my heart to a stop-- the distinct sound of a small puppy yapping in terror.  Not from my yard . . . from his CAR.  I promptly hung up on him.

When he arrived home, I had settled somewhat.  I asked where the flea-bitten little nuisance was.  Then, he pulled out of his jacket one of the sweetest, most adorable fur balls I had EVER seen.  My resolve and my heart melted in that instance.  It was love at first sight.  I hugged hubby, apologized and thanked him profusely.  I'm not sure what breed she is, but she is the color of a golden retriever, has short, floppy ears, a slightly curly tail, longer 'scruff' around her neck, a long body (like a weenie dog), and very short legs.  With a very wide head, short snout and HUGE paws.  Mutt?  Definitely.  Angel? Absolutely.  So Angel is what we called her. 

I don't believe we need ANY more pets, thank you very much.  We now have 4 dogs and 3 cats.  PLENTY.  On another note, I won't say that training 2 puppies to hunt and housebreaking another is easy, but I'll say that I have my work cut out.  It will eventually be worth it--but not for another year. Or two . . . Oh, boy . . .