So a few weeks ago, my husband came home with another puppy. I was not amused. We tried to find a good home for him the first few days, but as soon as he had a name, well, that was it. Canine #5 joined our family.
He came from Azul, the vet’s compound. His father is Blackie, who is huge and hairy but well-behaved. From what I can tell, he’s also Cocoa and Puppy’s brother from the same mother. Bear (his name because of his HUGE paws) has Puppy’s eyebrows and coloring that Fred has. Fred and George are most likely Puppy’s offspring. So we’re one big happy family.
Lil’ Bear (or Osito) is still learning his name and where it’s ok to pee and poop and where it’s not. Lots of “clean up on aisle 5” going on.
He’s also not convinced that taking a walk is something he really needs to do, unlike Cocoa, who could happily take 8-10 short walks a day in any weather.
Lil’Bear wants to go outside and will let me put the harness on (one that Bruce outgrew before it even arrived) but then finds a breezy, shady spot and lays down. The more I tug, the more he turns to dead weight. So I’ve had to modify our walk schedule. Cocoa still gets the majority of the walks. He’s good about keeping me from working too long without a break. Then at least twice a day, Lil’Bear goes with us. He’s our Zen reminder to stop and enjoy nature rather than the brisk and serious patrol duty that is Cocoa’s job.
As my son is already walking Cerebus, Fred, George, and Bruce (who is technically still a puppy but has outgrown both of the older Puppers). So that means Cocoa and Lil’Bear are my responsibility.
Lil’Bear is also very fussy when he’s tired. He moans and whines and flips and flops until he settles down for his nap. I had ordered a “cat” bed during the Black Friday sales last year that neither cat felt suitable, and Bear has claimed it as his own.
He’s not fond of the cats. He has a high-pitched bark that seems to be his “I’m telling on you” bark when they are up on something, and he thinks they shouldn’t be. Fuzz typically ignores him, but Manchas hisses and growls, which just further intensifies Bear’s tattling.
Although Cocoa won’t admit it, he loves having Lil’Bear around. The sacred guarding of the house is no longer Cocoa’s sole responsibility, although Bear is still a rookie. Most mornings, during my exercise routine, the boys are upstairs with me, wrestling like those televised professionals on WWF. It often turns into a session of the zoomies with Cocoa launching himself from my bed over Bear’s head and then racing back. Lil’Bear isn’t quite big enough to jump on the furniture, but I’m sure that’s only a week or two away at most.
Despite being not quite big enough for the beds, he has discovered that if he pulls the tablecloth, blanket, or mat down, he’ll be rewarded with some sort of prize (the cat’s still full food dish, the cozy comforter that’s way better than his own, or some leftover bits of people food.)
Lil’Bear has also found Cocoa’s discarded (or limbless) toy basket. He loves spreading them about and making those detached monkey arms squeak. Cocoa seems ok with that. He’s too old to play with toys, after all.
So here we are, nearly classifying as animal hoarders in our little ranchito. I hope this is the last puppy for quite some time.
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From the hilarious antics of their pet rabbits to the unexpected challenges of raising a donkey, Animal Antics South of the Border Series is a true celebration of the joys and struggles of rural life.
Surviving Mexico 