Toddler Brain

When Denim is being her brattiest, we usually say she’s “toddlering”.  You know, behavior like running around with toys even when she’s exhausted to prove she’s not tired.  Or she’s insisting on laying on top of you with her favorite toy and whining the whole time because nothing is good enough for her.

With a new foster in the house, she has been toddlering harder than ever lately.  We thought Melon would be the problem (and she has had a few issues that I’ll talk about in a minute), but Denim has been jealous, and insecure, and wants to play, but only HER games with HER toys.



It made me think about how “dogs have the intelligence of about a two year old child”–a toddler.  And how people tend to assume that means their learning capacity is really limited.  But have you ever MET a toddler?  Toddlers are resilient and brilliant.  They’re learning a whole language, constantly doing science experiments to figure out what happens if they chuck something across a room–they’re little beacons of operant conditioning at work.  Toddlers’ brains are working much harder and faster than an adults, they just don’t have the breadth of experience or maturity to create flying cars or cure cancer.

Of course, the other side of the coin is that the emotional intelligence of a two year old is not great.  It’s that experience/maturity thing again; they’re still learning how to behave, and their limited experience means that small experiences can yield big, undesired results.  That’s where Melon comes in.


Melon is a sweet, smart, black german shepherd who came from a really bad background.  That’s how we ended up fostering her.  She was seized by animal control and had to have her front left leg amputated.  We got her about ten days after the amputation, once she was released by the local PD.

We spent the whole first day just with her, loving her, spoiling her, and trying to figure out a way to keep a tshirt on her so that she wouldn’t lick her stitches.  (In case you’re wondering, adult small t-shirt, pin the empty arm to the collar, and tie the back with a hair tie.)  Then we slowly introduced Denim.  It worked well, until Denim accidentally landed on Mel’s stitches.  OUCH.  We had a couple scuffles that day, leading Denim to being insecure around Mel and Mel to stay really close to me, too close for Denim’s comfort.

But how does this relate to the intelligence point?  It all goes back to attachment theory.  I’m hardly an expert, but from what I understand, a child with a secure attachment to its parents feels like it can go out and explore and always come back to a safe place.  Dogs have the emotional intelligence of toddlers.  I don’t know what happened in Melon’s former life–though you can damn sure bet I’m following the court case–but I know she was treated poorly.  If the people who were supposed to care for you treated you poorly, you would attachment issues too.  You would hitch yourself to whoever treated you kindly and work to make sure nothing changed about that.Well.  That situation wasn’t going to work. 

I got on the internet and found information about the Two Week Shutdown.  We’re not doing exactly what we should–Melon and Denim are allowed to go outside to potty together and go on walks together and play a little bit outdoors.  They’re allowed indoors together if I’m up and moving about and doing chores.  As soon as I’m ready to sit down and relax, everyone gets cookies and Melon goes into the spare bedroom to allow all doggies to process the interactions they just had and what rules were important.  Rules like:

  • Playing gently–No muzzle punching Melon in the side to invite play!
  • Denim goes in and out first and gets her cookie first.
  • Laying/sitting down calmly near each other reaps benefits.
  • The Lady is not a fence or a coveted object.  She is going to go about her business and ignore the both of you.  You are not going to be able to block her or hide behind her.  She’s doing the laundry, and you don’t have thumbs.

It’s working.  Both dogs are starting to get the routine and are more apt to sniff each other, investigate each other, and even roll around to show off their bellies when they play.  Right after a really positive interaction, everyone goes to their own corners to relax for a little while.  I think we’ll be able to have Melon and Denim relax together in the living room within a week.

For right now, Melon lives behind two 4 foot tall baby gates and a blanket.  The first rule she had to learn was that she is not allowed to push through the baby gates or unlatch her crate.  Brains and beauty.


For the record, Grant and I have already discussed it and we will NOT be keeping Melon.  There are several people who have expressed interest in being her forever family, though, and we know she’s going to go to a great home.  Melon has been a fun first foster, and we’re enjoying watching her heal and get stronger.  Her staples already look better than they did when we picked her up and she can lope across the backyard on three legs without a problem.  Okay, there is one problem.  Turning around to walk or run in the other direction takes a few extra steps.  She is steering with only one oar after all!



ALL MY TOYS ARE BACK! (Heartworm Treatment, Pt. 3)

So here’s how fast-kill heartworm treatment works, when you’re going through the “staging” process:

Stage 1:  Dog is injected with steroids, antibiotics and immiticide (which is basically arsenic) right next to her spine.

Stage 1.5:  Your dog has to stay still and quiet for a month.  Coughing, wheezing, or activity could literally KILL HER.

Stage 2:  Dog is injected with all the same things again, except this time, she gets a double dose of immiticide right next to her spine.  On both sides!

Stage 2.5:  Your dog has to stay still and quiet for ANOTHER MONTH.  And yes, you’re still watching for a possible embolism.

Stage 3:  Your dog gets cleared for increased activity over the next two weeks and full activity after that.

Stage 3.000005:  (Literally five minutes after you leave the vet.)  You decide screw it, she lived and give back ALL HER TOYS.

THEY’RE ALL STILL HERE!  Now I’m going to distribute them all over the house.”

Since the exercise restriction has been lifted, it’s been Crazy Time all the time.  Which works well for Denim since we lost part of our fence in Hurricane Michael and there are now cats and squirrels running through our yard all the time.  Plus, the constant cat mating.  So what I’m saying is, thank God I can just let her freak out at the windows without having to contain her.

Of course, we won’t know for sure that all the heartworms were killed until next March.  Even after a dog is cleared from their final heartworm treatment, it takes six months before a blood test will show conclusive results.  That having been said, it should have worked and she should be heartworm negative forever, as long as we keep her on preventative.

Denim on our trip home from Atlanta.  The one where we went to the emergency vet when she wouldn’t stop coughing.  She was totally fine–especially since she got to travel with her biggest, most comfy bed.

The overall treatment ended up being nearly $1000.*  For a totally preventable illness.

And if it was expensive in terms of money, it was awful on our nerves.  Every time she would get too worked up, start coughing, or wheeze a little bit, we would be watching her like a hawk.  Every time she fell deeply asleep, we were checking her breathing.  And letting her go a little bit too far in her activity usually led to an argument between Grant and myself.  We just lost Daisy a year ago, and somehow Denim grew into a non-negotiable part of our family–love and stress can lead to pressure build up, and pressure has to be released somehow.  There were times I laid next to her on the floor and just listened to her heart, to make sure it was beating strong and steady.

Overall, though, we were lucky–Denim did not have that bad a time, which bodes well for damage to her heart–it means it’s strong and will recover given some time to heal.
(The worst moment we had was one night when she couldn’t stop coughing, which we realized later was probably environmental, not actually due to the treatment.)  If you’re going through this, you can do it, and so can your dog.  Restrict their activity to low levels.  Take them on leashed, short walks.  Snuggle–it’s a great excuse to binge on Netflix.  Work on commands like stay, wait, sit, and down–since you can’t do much, it’s a great time to reinforce.

“Also, fun, calm things to chew on.  Not like this Bumi, which I like to throw in the air and run after!”  

If your dog won’t crate, figure out alternatives.  Confine them to one room.  Make sure there are lots of comfy places to hang out.  We got a $30 bed from TJ Maxx that is made out of the same material as a sweatshirt, and it was a lifesaver–Denim was happy to relax in it for hours.  Take breaks and let your partner take breaks if you can–it will be stressful for both of you, and you both deserve a few hours off-duty.

And above all, try to stay calm.  Your dog is going to cough.  As long as it’s not extended or ongoing, it’s okay.  You will be able to tell when your dog has had too much activity, and when you need to calm them down.  You’re going to be fine.  And so is your baby.

And then you can put them in butterfly wings against their will on Halloween!


*I think it was actually something like $880, but at a certain point, you just hand over your credit card, because it’s not like you can pay cash anyway, but by GOD, you did not bring this dog from the brink of starvation to lose her to worms.

Keep your dog on heartworm preventative.  It’s a vital expense of dog ownership.  Heartworms are totally preventable, and the treatment is dangerous.

About October….

I set out in September to document Denim’s heartworm treatment.  September was a great month.  October?  Not so much.  Let me give you the run down.

10/1/18:  Denim goes in for her final (fingers crossed) heartworm shots.  She fails to say goodbye to me as she runs off with the vet.

10/2/18:  We have our roof redone.  Roofers leave stuff everywhere.  Must clean up all the stuff.

10/4/18:  Layoffs are announced.  I am informed my job has been affected.

10/11/18:  Hurricane Michael comes through our area.  We are lucky, in that all we lose is part of our fence.  We are unlucky, in that our power is out for five days.  We decide to go to Atlanta for the weekend.

10/14/18:  At 1 am, we rush Denim to the emergency vet in Marietta, GA.  She is coughing and wheezing and can’t seem to catch her breath.  The vet tells us her vitals look good and we need to further restrict her exercise.  We follow up with a visit to our home vet the next day, who tells us the same thing.  In the meantime, we realize that the new carpeting at the air bnb we stayed had irritated Denim’s breathing, because of the “new carpet” chemicals.  (Of course, she spent the weekend rolling in the delightful new high pile carpet, which was like indoor grass.)

10/18/18:  My toe becomes infected.  I can’t walk.  Have to see a podiatrist who prescribes giant horse pill antibiotics.

10/19/18:  My last official day of work.

10/20/18:  Sciatica.  I now understand America’s addiction to pain medication.  I, too, would be addicted to heroin if I had to go through that pain every day.  I get through it with an old Tylenol 800 mg prescription and yoga.

10/22/18:  In an effort to please Denim, who has been cooped up for days, I take her on a VERY SHORT walk around our cul de sac, as a special treat.  Denim sees a neighbor, loses her mind, and trips me in her joy.  My hands and knee are scraped up, and by the next day my knee is the size of TWO knees, one stacked over the other.

So it’s October 26 now, and I’m hoping that the rest of the month goes through without incident, but I remain skeptical.  Hopefully, Denim will be cleared this weekend while she boards at the vet and we take a weekend trip to Atlanta.  There are some Denim related things I want to write about though, including:

  • How DID the whole heartworm treatment thing go?
  • Dog breeds are made up, but you should expect to train different dogs differently anyway.  (Or, “Why my knee being screwed up is all my fault.”  Or, “Why you can’t train a boxer like a pointer.”)
  • Denim scares all the puppies with her intense need for love.

I’m not scary, the Lady.  Look at me be sleepy in front of the window.”


(No) Fun with Boxers, Heartworm Treatment Pt. 2

I’ve been researching Boxer dogs a lot lately.  Mostly because at first, I was unconvinced that Denim could possibly be a Boxer.  Look at her!  She’s too small!  She’s the wrong color!  She has no underbite!

Since then, though, I’ve realized that her behaviors are ALL boxer ALL the time, and her proportions are pretty much boxer, and the fact that her tongue doesn’t fit in her mouth are a boxer trait, and that little nubbin tail?  Boxer boxer boxer.

Every time her face relaxes? The tongue does a blep.

Daisy was probably a setter or spaniel mix, which is a sporting breed.  They tend to be high strung and hyper focused.  Daisy would get frustrated during training because I wasn’t speaking her language and often wasn’t moving fast enough for her.  Denim is different, which, as you can probably guess, requires a whole different protocol and one that we are not familiar with.

I recently watched the Dogs 101 video for Boxers, and one of the contributors made this joke:

“How many boxers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?  It doesn’t matter, they’ll still play with their toys in the dark.”

“The Lady stole ALL MY TOYS.  I am being tortured.  Love meeeeee.”

Denim’s Modus Operandi is FUN.  Specifically, how to have the most fun all the time.  That is what is making her return to us post-first injection so difficult.  Snuggling isn’t FUN.  Chewing is only so much FUN.  Eating is great, but it isn’t FUN.

You know what’s fun?  Leaping like a kangaroo!  Romping across the backyard off leash!  Doing the kidney bean dance across the floor while biting at The Lady’s pants as she gets ready for work!  Playing tug!  Playing fetch!  Chasing birds!  Hunting geckoes!

Of course, we can do basically none of those things right now.  We can eat stuffed kongs, and have relaxed pets, and take naps, and chew our new buffalo horn.  We also have to have all of our potty breaks on a leash—such a disappointment to Denim that she is now running away from her harness.  (She gets a cookie for sticking her head through it as a counterconditioning move.)

“Someone tell The Lady that carrot chips are NOT cookies.”

So we’re turning to training reinforcement to keep her brain busy.  Wait and come are big ones.  We can do them on a long lead in the backyard, so there’s not enough space for her to really get going, but she has to practice being patient and then “calmly” (for her) trotting across the yard for her cookie.  Sits and downs for carrot chips.  “Leave its” on her paws and from distractions.

And the whole time, it has to be fun!  Smiles, good jobs, and cookies.  Unnecessary belly rubs.  Letting her “help” in the kitchen.  (This mostly looks like making her “leave” food alone until she’s released to have it.)  If sporting jobs like to do work, boxers like to have fun!  Our job is to make sure she is having as much fun as she calmly can.

“Calm fun is a lie.  I’m on strike.”

We have some worry that this need to be calm for a couple months will break her joy-loving spirit, but the Boxer research has reassured me:  She’s going to be a puppy forever.

Dear God, help us.

Send wine.  Lots of it.
















****I’m going to try to keep record of this, because in researching, I did not find much more than medical resources about heartworm treatment, and I could have used some personal advice from someone I trust.

In the meantime, keep your dog on heartworm preventative.  It’s a vital expense of dog ownership.  Heartworms are totally preventable, and the treatment is dangerous.

Heartworm Treatment, pt. 1

We lost Daisy on August 17th, 2017.  It was the worst day of my entire life, hands down, seconded only by the cancer diagnosis that heralded our last summer with my partner in crime.

Denim came into our lives 4.5 months later, when a voice kept whispering “This one” to me, every time I looked at her picture.  I actually called about fostering her while we were on vacation.  I couldn’t focus on any of the fun to be had until I knew that she needed us and we could come meet her.

This year, on August 24, just one week after the anniversary of losing Daisy, we took Denim to the vet because she was breathing “funny” even though she was still eating fine, romping about the house with her toys, and begging for attention.  The vet listened to her heart, took some x-rays and ran some blood tests, and told us that it was time to start her heartworm treatment, or damage to her heart would be forthcoming.

We dropped her off this morning, after I spent my weekend wrapped around her in her favorite recliner.  They’re “staging” her injections, which is what happens when the heartworm condition is advanced enough that the dog starts to show symptoms.  This means that they’ll do the first injection today, August 27th and do the next two in a month.  That way they only kill half the worms at a time.


The danger with adult heartworm treatments is not the Immiticide, an arsenic injection that kills the worms, but the weeks and months following, where the worms “float” into the lungs after detaching and take time decomposing.  Since heartworms can be up to 12 inches long, they can easily block smaller arteries if the dog gets excited or is over-exercised, causing a pulmonary embolism.  The veterinary recommendation is 3-4 months of total crate rest in order to avoid catastrophic damage to the heart or lungs.

Even when she’s laying down, she’s usually chewing or squeaking something–her two speeds are “Left Lane of the Autobahn” and “Asleep”

For a dog as active as Denim, this is a terrifying consequence of her normal behavior.  I honestly don’t know how we’re going to manage this, other than management.  We’re pulling out baby gates, putting crates in good places, finding extra beds to relax in, buying chew toys, and freezing kongs.  We’re researching trick training to mentally exhaust her since she can’t be physically exercised.

And we have four days while she’s going through initial recovery and observation at the vet to get ready.  I miss my baby already and am sad that she wouldn’t let me give her kisses this morning before I left, because she was determined to go with me and kept hitting me in the nose with her skull.

“I’m bored already, The Lady.”


****I’m going to try to keep record of this, because in researching, I did not find much more than medical resources about heartworm treatment, and I could have used some personal advice from someone I trust.

In the meantime, keep your dog on heartworm preventative.  It’s a vital expense of dog ownership.  Heartworms are totally preventable, and the treatment is dangerous.


Interlude Behind a Krispy Kreme

Since Denim is not at all the dog I wanted, but is clearly the one we needed, sometimes I like to imagine that Daisy had a hand in sending Denim to us.  (This blog is getting maudlin, I know.  Bear with me.)

I can just see it:  “Hey, you.  The annoying one.  Behind the dumpster.  Eating the donuts.  Yes, you.”


“Nope. Not friend.  Back off.  I bite.”

“Okay, friend!”  (At this point, I imagine the nubbin is wagging so furiously, the whole back end is going.)

“Look, I need you to do something for me.  I’m offering you a great deal, but you have to go in that big white truck.”


“FOCUS ON ME.  NOT THE DONUTS.  THERE ARE PLENTY OF DONUTS WHERE YOU’RE GOING.  Get in the big white truck.  A lady and a man will come for you.  Then all you have to do is be sweet to the man.  He’s a softie.  He’ll make her keep you.”


“Don’t screw this up.  You’re clearly an idiot.”

“HI FRIEND!  Have you seen all the donuts?!”

“Get in the van.  I wash my hands of you.”


As the terrible anniversary of losing Daisy quickly approaches (how has it been a year already without my Daisy Jane?), I find myself believing more and more that we needed Denim.  We needed her sweet goofball antics, the way that she hops through the grass like a Tigger, and the way she lays on my chest when my heart is racing.

She is all heart, which means that she was more than able to mend mine when it was broken.  I’m so glad she left the donuts and got in the van.

And I’m so grateful to Daisy for knowing exactly what we needed.  And actually giving it to us. You know, for once.


What is love?

As my life and the lives of my friends change, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what love is.  As life changes, we experience love in so many more forms than we thought it could ever be.  It’s not just the warm feeling of safety that you experience as a child.

Loki Stella

It’s the ferocity you feel as a parent, protecting your own.

Dad and John

It’s the pride of someone else’s accomplishment.


It’s the fear of running out of good days.


It’s the support for someone who fears running out of good days.


It’s the champagne bubble feelings of romance.


It’s the companionship of a sibling.


It’s watching your friend go ahead of you to a place you can’t follow.

Road Beyond

It’s what moves you through fear, beyond anger, past jealousy, and away from pain.  It’s what you hold on to when everything else falls away.



It may be the only thing that has gotten me through the past impossible year, kicked off by a terrible loss, because it’s a superpower.



When you need to do the impossible thing and you know that somehow you’re going to make it happen at all costs, beyond all price?


That’s the love.

A Win Is Still A Win

As you already know, Denim ended up at our house because she was emaciated.  She was skinny with mangy patches of missing fur that literally bled all over our floors when I tried to give her a bath.  (Blood spray everywhere!  It was a watery murder scene.)

You can see every vertebrae in her back.

We couldn’t figure out why she was so skinny.  The girl LIVES to eat.  She wolfs down anything you put in front of her.  If you’re cooking, she stands between you and the counter just in case you want to give her a little bite of whatever you’re making.  And she was this way from MOMENT ONE.  It took us a couple weeks to realize that the reason she was so skinny was because of a bad case of intestinal worms and chicken made her poop in technicolor diarrhea.  (I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry I wrote that.  I really hope you’re not eating right now.)

“I am only putting up with this for food.”

It’s taken us months to get her to stop rushing her food bowl.  Months.  To be clear, she’s not protective of her food.  She really doesn’t care if you take it away from an aggressive standpoint.  She mostly wonders why this terrible thing is happening to her that you would pick up her food bowl while she’s still eating.  From the perspective of a former stray, it’s basically a travesty that food only comes at predetermined times of day and only in measured quantities.

“I’m still hungry, The Lady. Can I have FourthMeal?”

Not too long ago, I posted about getting her to sit.  Since then we’ve had major strides.  She knows “Sit” and “Down”, she knows, but hates “Drop It”, and she’s starting to get the hang of “Come Here” and “Leave It.”  (As it turns out, the trick to training Denim was not food, which is too distracting, but toys, which are the BEST.)

She has mastered “Wait.”  At least when it comes to her meals.  The dog still gets fed three times a day, and we got very sick of not being able to get the bowl down before she started eating, as it usually led to spilling food everywhere and making a huge mess.

So we started by making her sit before we would put her bowl down.  Making just THAT reliable was a week in the making, and she would still get to her bowl before it totally hit the ground.  Then we started telling her to “wait” and “take it”, never making her actually wait more than it took for the bowl to hit the ground.  Then the amount of time it took to let the bowl go.  Then the amount of time it took to straighten up from setting the bowl down.  Then one step backwards at a time, until now, I can just about walk all the way out of the kitchen while she stares at me, a long string of drool hanging from her mouth in anticipation of salmon and sweet potato kibble.  (This dog’s stomach is damned expensive, but thank God for Wellness Simple Diet.)

“I’m going to watch this food bowl very carefully, just in case someone puts something in it that I want very much.” (And yes, that is a slow feeder bowl. A necessity in our house.)

She now runs from the bag of food we keep in the laundry room to the kitchen, and sits about three steps back from her bowl, waiting for her release to her beloved food.  I just noticed this behavior this morning, after working on it since early March.

The wins are tiny and hard fought.  But I’m still marking it in the “Win” column.  Try and stop me.

Denim Sleeps In A Box

In other ways to torture a dog, may I suggest crate training?

Daisy hated the crate.  She would scratch, cry, scream bloody murder, open the gates, manage to get the crate tray outside of the crate, etc etc etc.  But let it be known that while this could be inconvenient, her creativity was highly amusing and incredibly impressive.  One never knew what would happen next!  The day we got her, we returned from a Taco Bell run to find her waiting for us at the front door, crate be damned.

Denim is also not a fan of the crate.  Will she hang out in one?  Yes.  If she has a Kong and she can’t see a human being.  And even then, when her crate was in the living room at night?  Nothing doing.  She will be in the same room with the people when the lights are off.  (See, she can’t actually see us, so the crate whining is generally minimal and short, but she knows we’re there.  She’s made of Velcro, remember?)

She does have a tendency to cuddle my shoes, which is weird.

She is a great bed sleeper under two conditions:

1) There is only one other person in the bed, and that person is me.  She pushes Grant out of the bed or attempts to sleep on his face.

2) She is so tired from playing with other dogs that she curls up between us in exhaustion.

If those qualifications are not met, Denim has to sleep in a box.  (Which, if you ask me, is a real shame, because Denim is a Champion Snuggler.  Like, Olympic Quality Snuggler.)  Luckily, she goes right in for a little bit of peanut butter or a couple treats and stays there until sunrise, when she wants her breakfast.  No dog is perfect.

Denim’s preferred pillow is a human.  She falls asleep almost instantly.

But that’s the only time we crate her, unless we need to keep her contained for a few minutes during a situation that would be otherwise dangerous.  She doesn’t steal things, she doesn’t chew things she’s not supposed to, (for the most part, RIP Grant’s flip flops), and she mostly just sleeps on the giant beanbag in the living room.


Or with me in the chair.  Those night time snuggles are a requirement.  I’ve warned her that if she doesn’t snuggle me daily, it’s back to the shelter she goes!

“The Lady!  You wouldn’t!”

Where does your dog sleep?  In your bed?  In a box?  On their own orthopedic foam bed in the corner that you have to take with you or they’ll throw a drama queen hissy fit?  (coughcoughdaisy)




Sides of the Same Coin

It is a universal truth of animal lovers that anyone who says, “It’s just a dog,” has never actually owned a dog.  Or at least, has never actually had a relationship with a dog.  (I guess I know lots of people who have owned dogs that they rarely interacted with.)

Anybody who has had a relationship with a dog, and especially more than one dog, knows that dogs have personalities, just like people.  And okay, fine, it’s true that your dogs’ personalities will probably be some kind of reflection of your own, but I maintain that’s true for humans as well.  We’re all a product of our environment, no matter how many legs you walk on.

I say this because Daisy and Denim both light up my life, but they are fundamentally different dogs.  I’ve mentioned that their intelligence levels are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but it’s more than that.  They approach life in a completely different way.

Daisy didn’t care.  Or rather, she cared deeply about a lot of things, but she did not Give A F*ck what you thought about her.  She didn’t even really care what we thought about her.  Daisy did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and only stopped when she got caught in the act.  And even then there was no remorse.  No other dog I’ve met has lived life with such total abandon and in-the-momentness.  Hedonism was her jam.

“There is only now, and I only care about me.”

That’s not to say she didn’t love us, just that she had a very “me first and only” approach to life.  It was part of her charm.

Denim, on the other hand, has only two modes.  Those modes are:

  1.  I am worried the people don’t love me enough.
  2. I am asleep.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, what about

3.  I am in a crazy zoomie play mode.

But 3 is just an extension of 1, in a “QUICK MAKE THE PEOPLE NOTICE HOW FUN I AM SO THAT THEY LOVE ME” kind of way.

But I guess when you think about it, 2 is just an extension of 1 in a “snuggles or bust” kind of way.  So in reality, Denim is mostly concerned about whether the people love her enough or not.  And not just her people.  All the people.  And all the dogs.  And all the human puppies.  It’s like she spends her whole existence trying to ensure her belovedness.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way, The Lady?  Why haven’t you looked at me in two hours?!  I am concerned about The Man’s current location!!!!”

And yet, Daisy was the one with the separation anxiety.

Denim is all, “I’d rather stay at day care forever and ever thank you Lady it’s fun here.”  (No, she literally turned around and walked back into day care when I tried to leave with her.)

Two polar opposite personalities but I love both of them wholeheartedly.  Probably because they represent two sides of my own and Grant’s personalities.  The ambitious, smart, go-getter, stay out of my way side, and the quiet, I love you, extroverted side.

Denim and I are both chill extroverts.  We feel energized being with others, but that doesn’t mean we’re at a rave.