the corner office

Warning: pet post. Feel free to skip if it ain't your bag.

Basically, it's the end of the world as we know it. I mentioned way back that Tupac had puppies, but we've hardly seen them since they were born. Tupac still spends an inordinate amount of time with us (quite possibly because she's sick and tired of the pups), but apart from the occasional "aw cuuute" poke & prod visit next door, we've had nothing to do with them.

Of the original 8, 4 have been given away. The remaining 4 critters have developed very healthy lungs, and in the past week or 2 have have taken to barking and wailing enough to wake the Devil hisself, especially at night. Sleep doesn't always come easily these days. What the wailing has also done, is provide us with a constant reminder that a horde of canine cuteness resides next door.

So much so, that last night Ronwen decided It Was Time and opened the gate separating our front garden (which we almost never go into) from the neighbour's garden. At first the pups were wary of this new territory and were terrified of us, but within an hour they were loving us to bits, especially when they discovered that we have a stash of doggy biscuits (normally reserved for Tupac and Chillies, the gargantuan ridgeback). Tupac has a duvet stretched across one of our couches which is her napping spot, and last night we were treated to having Tupac plus pups all napping peacefully on the couch.

By today their evil sides started appearing, though. While they were all cute and adorable last night, when they popped in this evening they were a tad more rambuctious. We now have little horrors scratching and wailing at our door like demons in a horror movie, and when they do come in, anything not bolted down seems to be fair game for a bite, a tug, and attempts to drag it outside. One made off with a serviette which we thankfully recovered before it became doggy-gob paper mache. A telephone got yanked off a table. Ronwen's slippers almost ended up in the garden. A potplant was upended. An old chopstick was discovered and almost caused armageddon as 3 of them fought over it. Chaos, I hear thee calling.

They are dead cute though. We don't know their names (except for one, which the neighbours named Dre (as in Dr...). Dre seems an exact replica of Tupac, right down to the white spot on her chest and tendency to sleep on her back with front paws crooked and hind legs splayed. For the others we've settled on Rufus, Henry and George. No doubt their real names have more ghetto chic, but I think ours are pretty much on target. I'm not sure how much longer they'll all be here, but for now, I guess they're fast becoming part of the family. I don't think poor Tupac's too chuffed though :-)