Poppydog!

For Valentine's Day, we spent a good chunk of the day at the East Valley Animal Shelter. We'd been considering dogs for a while, and they had a reduced-fee adoption event that got me over my incredible reluctance over seeing over a hundred longing, adorable faces and trying to choose just one. We've NEVER done that before -- pets have always been chosen for us (Prince Phillip of Finrot was our first pet purchase). So here's Poppy (her former name was Precious, and there was no way in heck I was rolling with that for years on end). She's 3, part chihuahua and part something else. Loves being in the car, loves being carried and held, but is not so much for the walking. Anywhere. She's a bit frightened just yet, having been dumped a couple of weeks ago by someone losing their house. Her canine housemate was already adopted, so she's a bit disoriented with all the activity and is pretty much face down next to the washing machine on an old blanket despite a spiffy new dog bed under the heater vent. She rolled over for a belly rub and finally ate but is otherwise like a 14 lb. paperweight. That poops. Perhaps indoors. More blogfodder.

Poppypostscript: after taking her out every half hour with no uh, results, we figured she'd have her way with the kitchen floor overnight. Nope. We took her out in the morning, again and again, and after HOURS -- success (on er, both fronts!). She is more stubborn than we are, and that's really something. Also, after acting like a timd, shaking chihuahua, she took off like a thunderbolt after a squirrel, but otherwise has proven so incredibly lazy that she tries to eat without leaving the bed. She overturned the dish and the bed, then stood there looking properly humiliated. Also, the dishwasher, she has decided, is not her friend.

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