There's a Light....

Over at the Frankenstein place...and her name is Smudge!

My first little light went out. Our beautiful Blondie, the sweetest dog we ever owned was gone. We really *really* missed having our little bulldog around. They are great dogs, full of life and personality. With Blondie gone, there was an enormous hole in our lives. Our Monkenstein was depressed and sad because he could not find his Grumpy Nanny. Everyone was moping around.

My DH told me that I should find a puppy, and it would be my anniversary present. He is such a great hubby. He actually had to give the ok to the vet to euthanize Blondie. I was pretty much hysterical, and we were actually pouring concrete when the vet called with the bad news. He took the phone and talked to them. He is a better man than I deserve sometimes.

So, I searched...and searched. Frenchie puppies are fairly rare, and awfully expensive when you do find one. I knew what I wanted in a pup. Not creme or fawn. This puppy was not going to be a replacement for Blondie, nor should she be compared to her. I did want a female, only because The Monkenmonster is a boy. It was very possible that he would really resent another male coming into what had become *his* home. So that left me with a black, piebald, or brindle female pup. That narrowed down the search, but also the pool of pups available. We also had a price limit, which further narrowed the pool of possible pupsters. After several days of fruitless searching - apparently they sell as soon as they are born, I saw an ad for a rescue puppy.

I can't tell you how many times I have filled out what is euphemistically referred to as an "adoption application" for a dog. I have, over the years, tried to adopt quite a few dogs, and nothing. Not even the courtesy of a reply to the application. I didn't have any expectation that this time would be different, but I thought what the hell, and filled it out. Then I forgot about it. The next day, we were up finishing up the lake house we were working on and my phone rang. I answered it and was shocked when the woman told me she was with the rescue. What? Then she told me that she had checked my references! Hello? Are you sure you have the right person?? Then she said... you are approved... **THUD** I wake up and the DH is patting my hand and calling my name! (not really, but it sounds good eh?) Huh? Me? Us? You are going to let us adopt a puppy? Who paid you to be so mean?

She said we had excellent references, and not only that, but we could pick from five puppies! WOOHOO!! We made arrangements to meet that evening. We arrived right on time, and the woman was very nice. She showed us all the puppies. Talk about treacle. Dear Lord, not one, but five! The only thing cuter than a baby frenchie is two...five is almost unberable! Thank doG we had already decided we wanted a female. There were four brindles and one piebald brindle. Only two of them were females. Thank goodness! Smudge was the biggest girl. The other girl was adorable, but she was so tiny. One thing we loved about Blondie was her size. There are two different sizes of frenchie - the smaller ones are around 20 pounds tops, and the larger ones closer to 30. We decided that we wanted the larger one. We signed all the papers, promised to have her spayed, plunked down a sizeable "rescue fee", and were happily on our way home with our new little light.

The rescue lady had given them all names for the vet check, and had named our little girl Chanda. Ugh! We promptly renamed her Smudge, because the DH said she looked like she had fallen down a chimney. Smudge is quite charming. If she had little fingers, everyone she meets would be wrapped around one of them. She knows just when to lay back her big ears and wiggle her little bottom. She is cuteness in a brindle jacket.

When we first brought her home, Monkleman thought she looked absolutely delicious! At a mere six pounds, she was just the right size for a delicious midnight snack, he thought. He was quite territorial, snarling and lunging at her any time he saw her! Oh NO! I was afraid that he might never come around, but one day I took her out in the back yard and put her down, staying close enough to snatch her up (or snatch him bald) should he decide to attack her. He came over and smelled her, and it seemed as if he decided to give up and accept her. Since that night, they have been pretty much glued together. We still watch them, because she has oodles and gobs of extra energy, and while he has become what I would call a saint, even a Monk has his limits. He is patience personified when she wants to play. He looks so resigned sometimes. She pulls his hair, and his ears, and bites his feet, and steals prized pig on a rope toy.

She is a micro terrorist. I have never seen anything move so fast, or for so long. In typical puppy fashion, she plays until she can't stand up, then falls down and sleeps wherever she is. She is pretty grumpy when you make her wake up to go outside and potty before bed, but she almost has the potty outside thing down! She will also mostly, come when you call her name. She already sits on command. She is a good puppy, even though she has developed an unnatural liking for feet, especially when they are wearing socks. Damn, her teeth are sharp!

One light burns out, and a new light burns brightly. Long Live the Smudge!!