Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Dog Blog



*This is not the greatest picture of Syd but the little bugger won't sit still.
Look, I know I go on a bit, and I'm especially guilty of raving when I'm excited. Many of you already know about Syd the Silky Terrier who is our latest addition to the family. So, as threatened, here's a bit about him.

Syd is 11 weeks old, and is the latest in a long line of Silkies, following Louis, Woody, and our beloved childhood dog Dudley, who lived to a grand old age of 18 before shuffling off to the big doghouse in the sky. I think that's something like 126 in human years.

My sister Amy also bought a pup from the same litter as Syd and called hers Alfie. We joke that we're going to end up as crazy old ladies who live together having outlived our husbands, and breed Silky Terriers between botox shots and G&T's. It's funny but could easily come true, which is frightening. But I digress.

Syd and Alfie seem to adore each other and it's lovely that they have their brother around the corner. They attack each other in a yapping, feral ball of teeth and fur every time they see each other, which we're hoping is their way of showing affection. If not, things could get ugly down the track.

When Alfie's not around, Syd spends his days hanging by his teeth, which are usually attached to one of the girls' socks or pants. There's always a lot of screaming and yelping involved and a crazed dash for the sofa, where the kids launch themselves to safety, and Syd ends up wedged under the couch and needs retrieval.

Lucy calls him 'darling' which is adorable, and she happily shares her dummies with him. We're keeping the worming up on everyone. Sofie is unsure of him, as he is jumpy and nippy and while he is growing on her, she regards him suspiciously. That is, except when we walk him to the park or past preschool and are mobbed by the kids. At such times he is "MY puppy Syd. Do you want to pat him?"

He's getting the hang of house training. Sort of. He now pees on the carpet and immediately runs outside. My patience and my carpet are being stretched to their limits. I don't even want to think about having to toilet train Lucy, which will be coming in only a few short months.

In the evening, Syd divides his time between my lap and Mark's, wagging his tail and doing adorable puppy things which ensure his survival the next time he pees in the house. We love him and are so happy he's ours.

Finally, his name. I'm not an 'I saw it in a dream' kind of girl, but shortly before he came I dreamt we were picking up our puppy at the airport and he had a destination tag on his box saying SYD. As he came on a plane from the breeder in Queensland it just kind of fitted. And stuck with our family tradition of naming our dogs after old men. I have no idea why.

I can't promise anything, but I'm going to try to make this my last dog post. As I mentioned to someone recently, this blog is starting to look like a pet shop. And I don't want to be the crazy blogging lady who has nothing to write about but her pets. Even if it's true.