August 17, 2004
Holy crap. I have a DOG. How did this happen?
I’m still not really sure. Prior discussions of a dog have always gone like this:
Amy: Wah. Am bored. Want a dog.
Jason: Will you wake up on the weekends to walk it?
Amy: No. No I will not.
Jason: Then I don’t think we should get a dog.
Amy: Okay. Let’s go buy me new shoes instead.
But then, you know, shit happened. It’s been a bad summer. When I looked at Jason all teary and blue and said, “I want a dog,” a few weeks ago, he didn’t ask about waking up on the weekends. He thought it over for a few moments and said, “We should get a dog.”
So we started looking. Our requirements were as follows:
1. Dog must be smaller than Max so Max will not get his fat precious ass kicked.
2. Dog must not be poofy, puffy or sheddy.
3. Dog must not yap yap yap all the livelong day.
4. Dog must be a girl as Amy has dog-penis issues.
5. Dog must be insufferably adorable and delicious.
Right before we left for Miami, we submitted some applications to adopt some homeless dogs. Some puppies that had been abandoned. A little poodle/Italian greyhound mutt. A miniature pinscher named Chula who had been hit by a car and now has three legs.
We were all ready to come home from vacation and go get our puppy. Except we were turned down. By SHELTERS. We were turned down because we didn’t have a fenced-in yard.
Let me tell you, there are few blows to the ego that are worse than being told you are not good enough to care for a three-legged dog by an animal shelter. So on Sunday we gave up and started calling breeders because Amy wanted a puppy and wanted a puppy NOW ALREADY. Ceiba belonged to a woman who bred show dogs and had just been deemed too small to compete. Whatever.
Her tail and ears were clipped, which is the breed standard for show dogs, and it makes me sad. I’m sure her tail and ears were perfect and adorable before. But I’m glad she’s ours now and she’ll just be a scrappy little puppy instead of a show dog.
The breeder named her Mimi. She kept making some joke about “Minimize Me” being her full name and we laughed even though We Did Not Get It.
My family already has two pets named Max and cats named Maizie, Mollie, Maggie, Misty and Maddie. No more M names. NO. MORE.
We went through about a dozen names on Sunday and none of them were “it.” We wanted something that was “us.” Max was named after Jim Carrey’s kid in Liar, Liar, because we LOVED Jim Carrey, back before he got pretentious. So we were going through all the miscellaneous crap on the TiVo, looking for inspiration.
Amy: Roxie from Chicago?
Jason: Smeagol? Arwen?
Amy: No Lord of the Rings names. We are not that lame. Rory from Gilmore Girls?
Jason: Look, you got your wimpy little dog. Don’t push it.
Amy: Anything from South Park?
Jason: Mr. Hankey?
Amy: HAAAAAAA. She looks like a turd too.
In the end, we went with food. Anyone who knows my husband and me knows that eating out is probably the one thing we love more than drinking, but mostly because it involves drinking. “Ceiba” is a really great restaurant in D.C. It’s the scene of the infamous middle-aged drunk people making out and licking faces incident. (Click HERE and HERE for the story and the pictures.)
It’s also some kind of tree…or something. But she was really named after our love of mojitos.
Why Ceiba, Why??
In the last 48 hours, I have become singularly obsessed with my dog’s bathroom functions. Jason and I have not had a single conversation that did not revolve around Ceiba’s bladder since Sunday night. I have seriously called him just to report on her poop. Where she pooped, what she pooped and how I reacted to the poop.
Poop poop poop.
She was litter-box trained…at some point. She’s a little rusty now. We had big plans for eschewing the litter and getting her to go outside, but within a day we were back to applauding her for peeing sort of on a training mat that was kind of next to the litter. Yay Ceiba!
But she’s trying so hard to please us and is remarkably well-behaved. She’s responding to “no” and her name and wants to be held and praised all the time. She wants to play with Max. Max wants her to die. So…there’s still that to deal with.
But we have supplies! Crates! Clickers! Toys! A Puppies For Dummies book! That is too advanced for us and makes me cry in frustration because I am going to TOTALLY FUCK UP THIS DOG.
Like yesterday? She tried to jump off my lap. I tried to grab her because she's clutzy and delicate and not supposed to jump off things for a few more months because her bones are so wee. All I ended up doing was sort of tripping her in mid-air and she crashed to the floor. On her head. She started to wail and howl, so I wailed and howled. Jason came running and I shrieked that I broke our puppy and oh my god, etc.
She was just fine. As was I. After a stiff drink, anyway.
I just love her so damn much already. Am so bringing her to JournalCon because my heart breaks whenever I leave her. And my heart melts when she looks at me and I laugh when she kisses my face and I've had a big goofy smile on my face ever since we brought her home.
I'm really glad we got our dog.
Why You Came: Ceiba Pictures
My camera cannot keep up with the Thunderbolt Of Puppilicious Energy That Is The Ceiba, so these aren't great. She's not quite so demonic looking. Or so blurry. I'd actually describe her as sharp. Crisp even. But here they are.