love that dog

The puppies don't celebrate Christmas with us. Although Puppicent did unwrap one of the presents under the tree this year. Or, rather, she undid the bow (still can't find it) and licked the wrapping paper.

I love our puppies. They've been particularly more enjoyable over the last couple weeks. For example, when we were loading the car to head up to the Momma's for Thanksgiving, the dogs decided they were joining us. Not only that, they were insistent upon driving.

And they've been such sports when the children (Dec included) have decided to dress them. Even though dogs don't wear clothes. This year, the kids have decided that the puppies really, really, really want to be gangsta.

We had a bit of a panic last week when we woke up one morning and Puppicent had a droopy tail. You must bear in mind that both of our puppies have what may or may not qualify as lethal weapons for tails. Puppatrix's is clearly the more deadly of the two, but Puppicent's is nothing to shake a stick at. At least, prior to Tuesday. When we woke up Tuesday, we noticed that her tail just hung there. Limply. No movement at all. Initially, as we were trying to check her out, she wouldn't let us touch even her hindquarters. We realized that this explained her pacing during the night, considering that she couldn't find a comfortable position to sit or lie down in. This was, of course, a cause of great panic as I feared she might have to lose her tail. And that would be a crime against nature. Because dogs are supposed to have tails.

Fortunately, we were able to get her in to the vet in the afternoon (Dr. Poncé at Avenues Pet Clinic—she rocks). After examining Puppicent, the vet determined that there was still feeling in her tail, so it might just be a broken vertebra or a sprain. We opted not to do an x-ray at the time as the treatment—a honkin' huge pain reliever/anti-inflammatory—would be the same. The horse pill (let me interject here to say how much I appreciate that they make it taste like treats so she'll just eat it out of my hand, unlike her medication she was on when we first adopted her that I had to stick to the roof of her mouth with peanut butter to get her to take it) seemed to ease her discomfort, and a few days later, she began moving her tail again. It still hangs more than it used to, but she has movement again. Which makes me happy. Because dogs are supposed to have tails.

But it was the following two days wherein the puppies may have earned themselves a Christmas treat this year. Dec has this torture game that he likes to play with the puppies that we call Mouse. Basically, Dec says, "Mouse," and the puppies run to the kitchen to try and get at the mouse that supposedly hides under the stove. Now, we have an old house and mice are not new to our domicile. In fact, we've had a number of run-ins with mice, some successful, some not. Regardless, the game throws the puppies into fits, and they'll even stage stakeouts to kill the mice.

On Wednesday, as Puppicent and I were about to leave the office, we watched a mouse scurry along the baseboard. Puppicent immediately went into action, which drew the attention of Dec and Puppatrix. We shut the door and stopped up the gap under it with a blanket as we were pretty certain we don't have any other access points in this room (which, now that I think about it, is a rather disturbing thought). After much teamwork on all our parts, especially considering that Dec and I had to prop up the love seat on its front legs so the puppies could get under it, Puppatrix caught the mouse. And killed it. Which was fascinating in and of itself—she takes the mouse's head in her mouth and then grinds her teeth back and forth until she breaks its neck. Puppicent was devastated that Puppatrix caught the reward and continued to sniff around for the now-dead mouse that was lying at her feet.

Oh. And Dec squealed like an itty, bitty girl because there was a dead mouse in the room while I went and got a bag for its disposal.

On Thursday, Dec and the Puppatrix happened to be in the kitchen when they saw one escape under the stove. So Puppicent and I ran in to help them catch this one. This time, Puppicent caught the mouse, which was slightly more entertaining. You see, Puppicent seems to have more of the bird-retrieval instinct in her. She kinda sorta nom nom nommed on the mouse, trying to immobilize it without actually killing or maiming it. She finally dropped the still twitching mouse on the floor. And if you think Dec squealed like an itty, bitty girl the day before, it was nothing compared to his squeals at this. Puppatrix, in her grand manner that she has, rolled her eyes at Puppicent's amateurish mouse killing, sauntered over to the mouse, picked it up by the head, and ground her teeth back and forth until its neck snapped.

We think the mouse community has gotten the message; we haven't seen a mouse since then.

And I think the puppies may actually get Christmas this year.