…not to be confused with a new edition. I’m talking about an addition to the family, a furry addition. As I wrote in a previous post, Emily has been wanting a puppy. She’s been wanting one for years, actually. We finally gave tacit consent, pending the landlord’s approval, and her saving the money for said puppy.

She turned around and sold a bunch of her Littlest Petshop toys, set up a go-fund-me page, wrote an email to our landlord (who is just the nicest—we are so blessed in this area), and within minutes of receiving approval, she set up an appointment for the next day to meet one of the many puppies she considered over the past couple of weeks.

Apparently the kid takes after me, after all! I’ve never been one to wait around when I wanted something, although as an adult I do choose whether a want is worth having, and therefore worthy of pursuit. Em wanted a puppy, she had her consent, and by noon the next day, she had her puppy.

This is Arctic, an eight-week-old, white German shepherd. Brad is thrilled she picked him, and not the tiny Chihuahua that would fit in a purse. I’m thankful Arctic is the runt, and due to the size of his feet, the vet estimates he won’t grow past medium-size. That’s what Fox was, and that’s a very good size in my opinion. I’m also thankful he’s a beta, rather than an alpha or omega. He’s a follower, which is the very best when it comes to a companion puppy.

Pandy, Emily’s cat, is less than amused by the little interloper. On his part, Arctic is leaving her entirely alone. Her eleven pounds dwarf his four, and the look in her eyes is not one of encouragement. Her verbal cues on the other hand, are worse than confusing. She talked nicely and hissed, all in the same sentence, a repetitive cycle which she continued. Until she started making that acking noise they do when trying to charm a bird. That was enough cause for alarm, but she didn’t stop there. Her tail began to twitch rapidly, which in a mentally balanced cat, means it’s anticipating something enjoyable. By that time, no one was about to accuse her of being in her right mind. Arctic, who exhibits great wisdom in the self-preservation department, sought cover behind the ottoman, putting me between him and the deranged creature who continued alternating between welcoming, threatening, and perhaps luring. I encouraged her to go lie on Brad’s side of the bed, her latest spot of choice, and she complied.

Whew! That could’ve gone a lot worse. Star is curious about the puppy and has touched noses a few times, but otherwise chooses to observe him from the back of the couch. She seems fascinated, although not in a threatening or otherwise disturbing way. Arctic knows that whatever she is, she isn’t a dog, and is deferring to her, rather than attempting to harass. Indy… our poor aging golden retriever, doesn’t know what to do with this newcomer. He’s too small to play with safely, and although Arctic is desperate for acceptance, he also bites. Indy does not like this, and no wonder! I’m hoping Indy will discipline him as he continues to grow, rather than looking to me for help. Of course I provide it, but the puppy could learn so much from the big dog, if only he was willing to teach him. Arctic follows him, watches him, and even imitates the way he sits and lies down. I’ve never raised a puppy, so this is all new to me. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, he seems really smart.

He also drips a lot. We joke that Em should have named him Spigot! But, he’s doing better by the day. This afternoon he looked at the backdoor when he needed to go, so we made it outside in time. He’s coming along well, especially considering his age, but I’m really thankful for laminate floors!

Uncertainly Yours is on page 323, which is great, all things considered. Between homeschooling, doctor appointments, puppy raising, and keeping the house somewhat clean and everyone fed, I haven’t had any time to spare.  The pup gets up super early by my standards, which means Em and I are also up by 6:00. And yes, that is a horridly early hour for us nightbirds! Yesterday Em went back to bed after Arctic was fed, and I thought—finally, I have some downtime! Even if it was at a ridiculous hour. Which it was. In spite of that, I was relieved. I reheated my latte from the day before—because some woman at Starbucks saw her chance to snag a venti after ordering a grande, and took mine instead, which really irritated the barista who wasn’t able to catch the woman because she was booking it out of the store, so then apologized (not that I wanted it back after she had it) and gave me the latte-bandit’s grande, plus made another venti for me, so—I carried it upstairs to my writing room, turned on the flickering flames of my electric fireplace, settled on the couch, and opened my Bible. I anticipated plenty of time to read, after which I intended to write.

And then… from the crate in Em’s room next door, I heard a tiny howl. Muttering “please go to sleep, please go to sleep, please go to sleep!” under one’s breath has no effect whatsoever, if anyone was wondering. Moments later, Em was at the door with Arctic in her arms. Actually, she was on her way past, and I considered keeping quiet and letting her go. It would take her several minutes to realize I wasn’t downstairs, my SUV was in the garage, and I wasn’t outside. But… I bid my dreams of that elusive thing known as time-to-myself goodbye, made my presence known, made her breakfast, and was busy every second after. So it’s amazing I manage even a paragraph a day, but I am getting that written and sometimes more, and I will get this book finished and move on to Miles and Anika’s sixth book. It will happen, even though it won’t be as soon as I’d like! It will happen, as surely as this pup will one day be house trained, Em will be able to work independently, and she will no longer average five doctor appointments a week.

I say this with utmost reverence… Lord, haste the day!