Yesterday my husband and I visited a litter of 14 puppies! They are six weeks old.
The mom is a Rhodesian Ridgeback and the dad is a Boxer. And the puppies, as you can see, are out-of-this-world CUTE!
Fourteen puppies = adorable chaos. I reached my hand into their pen and there was frantic clamboring to sniff/nip/lick my fingers (and sleeve, and rings…). They were so friendly and excited! I managed to pluck one out and hold him for a while. My heart grew ten sizes. Then I saw the runt, sitting alone off to the side, trying not to get run over by her bumbling siblings. We managed to coax her over and we held her, too.
Then we heard the wonderful/evil news: “Only two of the puppies are spoken for.”
We have been dog-less since our old poochie passed away a year and a half ago. We know we’ll get another dog one day.
We eventually left the puppies, miraculously without making any commitments. (Is there anything more persuasive than the pull of a puppy??)
We talked and talked on the way home: Should we? Shouldn’t we?
This morning I decided to bake some muffins: let my thoughts stir and mix around like the batter in the bowl.
Puppies are a lot of work.
We have two young human puppies already.
But a puppy would bring so much JOY!
The kids would LOVE one.
But puppies are a lot of work…
The muffins are now done baking, but our decision has not.