AND OTHER TRUTHS
My two new foster pups are brother and sister: Remo and Ruthie. “Remo” is not a typo of Romeo; it’s a brand of drum equipment, and I know all you drummers out there knew what I meant. Aptly, Remo has a perfectly round, white belly that gets visibly bigger the SECOND he starts eating a meal. I haven’t verified that the acoustics of his belly change as he fills up. But let’s assume they do.
Ruthie is named for Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Like the Notorious RBG, Ruthie is petite, and in charge. She was the first one of the two to demonstrate that yes, we do know how to bark; we were just working our way up to it. Now she barks every time she sees injustice – like when Remo is hogging her favorite bowl.
Remo. With hoarded toy behind him.
Considering they had no manners at all when they arrived only a week ago, Ruthie and Remo are doing very well in the civilization department. But they are still terrible. They are my 7th and 8th foster pups, but I have set an all-time record for loads of laundry run on their behalf – they surpassed the competition by day 3.
They have gone from pooping up the crate 5 out of 5 times, to pooping it up rarely. At first they slept 3 hours at a time overnight; now they can go 6. Flat newspapers on the floor have transformed from “Hey! check out the aerodynamics on THIS toy!” to “This is where we poop and pee.” At least, more than half the time….
Ruthie. Fending off…a…nap.
These two varmints are from a litter of six very undernourished puppies, being raised by a dangerously underweight mom who just had nothing left to give them. The humans in charge of them did not think to give them any food. Well, that may be inaccurate; hard to know if they thought, or not. All I know is these two, and their 4 littermates, had all ribs showing, thin fur, scratches, fleas, distended bellies, and desperate appetites. And my job is to help them forget all that. Here goes.
Puppies are Jerks 