Not Quite Betty Crocker

We have a puppy.


And he's a boy. :)


Well, to be accurate, we had a puppy who is now a rather handsome adolescent dog (I'm a proud mama).

Regardless, Indiana Jones Jr. has been incredibly helpful in teaching me skills for life, as I hear dogs are wont to do.

I struggle with the idea of being a team, my guy and I. In what I'm willing to call a flare of arrogance, I want to be perfect all by myself, so I tend to look at him as an aspirational example rather than a partner. Said another way, if what I love about him is that he's funny, I try to be funnier rather than appreciate that he balances my seriousness.

Back to the dog. I'm the dog trainer, strategy researcher, curriculum creator, put-the-foot-and-lay-the-law-DOWN one. My guy is the resident playmate, puppy chaser, dog wrestler, rile-him-all-up one. Today it whacked me over the head that we're the perfect pair. My epiphanies often take the form of a rather violent smack upside the head.

Without me, Indy Poopyhead Jones would have no manners. We'd be covered in muddy pawprints, stinky dog drool, and cat-poop dog breath. We'd be nipped and licked and sniffed in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. And we'd be unceremoniously stuffing a quickly growing dog into a crate on a regular basis, or using our bodies to try to prevent him from forcing his way out of the quickly closed door. Because of me, he happily trots into his crate at a softly spoken request.

But without my guy, Indy Stinkybutt would be a very well-mannered but slightly boring (and bored) dog. He'd never get to run around the yard maniacally chasing a sprinting and juking owner until they both collapsed in a heap. He wouldn't get to lick a human's face up one side and down the other without getting scolded. He'd miss out on the unique experience of a sudden full body hug from a full-grown man. And de'd never have gotten a sibling. Yup, our pup was gifted with another dog of his very own.

Meet Beau.

He likes full body hugs, too. And someday, he might even have manners.

I'm think I'm beginning to understand this team thing.

{Beau is at the University of Tennessee emergency clinic tonight, having ingested something both horrible and unknown, and we won't know how -- if -- he'll recover until tomorrow at the earliest.

Update 2/17: Beau is fine, home, and whining -- like normal -- in his crate as I type. Thank goodness for helpful vet professor neighbors and the wonders of medicine. Oh, yes, and credit cards with formerly zero balances.}