Within the last month, “no” has become my most frequent word. This is because I have become the owner of an 11 week-old Brittany Spaniel Dog (correctly referred to simply as a Brittany – the breed is not technically a spaniel at all):
His name is Stewart (Stu for short). I wanted to name him Farnsworth, after the treatise writer who helped me ace Contracts, but my [ex]girlfriend convinced me that this would be too nerdy, and thus, I settled on Stu.
Puppy training is a very challenging and stimulating activity. I am convinced that dogs come into the world thinking that they can chew on 98% of what is in within their reach. Unfortunately, most dogs’ owners think that their dogs can only chew on a de minimus percentage of the animals’ environments: toys. I am constantly buying dog toys. I have the Kong Toy, which reminds me of a rounded-off version of the hats worn by the ’80s pop band Devo. I have the screen-printed cloth newspaper stuffed with cellophane and printed with doggie headlines (“Arf grr bark wine…” etc.). I have rawhide pigs ears and dozens of bones. None of these stop him from trying to eat my shoes, chew on my couch, and run around with the toilet brush, which I find particularly odd.
Irrespective, he has still made this last month infinitely more fun. Already, having him around makes all the scolding, 5:00AM bathroom runs, and accidents worthwhile. I can’t wait until he is a fully-trained pointer.