Beverly has thrown Steve and me off balance. I’ll confess that at the start of our life together, 6 days ago, I felt almost smug. Not only were we able to pick Beverly up within 4 hours of landing at Lindbergh (after flying all night, returning home from another continent), but in short order, we also puppy-proofed the house. We rolled up most of the rugs and stashed them in the places we’ve found for them while house-training other CCI charges. We hauled out the kennels and the exercise pen, and set up the latter in my office on the indestructible tile flooring.
Downstairs, we erected a makeshift barrier to limit where Beverly can roam. It looks pretty awful, but it’s effective.
Finally, we cranked up our psychological guards, returning to that hypervigilant state in which you try to watch every second for electric cords being chewed, garbage cans raided, tiny bladders being emptied in some corner.
But this is where Beverly has discombobulated us. I think she’s smart and self-confident. In less than a week, she’s learned to climb every stair on the premises (and there are many!) I’ve seen her walk to the door, sit down, and wait expectantly; sometimes she has yelped or barked to signal her need to go outside to relieve herself. She will Sit on command, and she seems to be grasping the concept of Down. But she’s so mellow; so downright sleepy, she’s gotten into very little trouble. She’ll wake up every now and play for a few minutes. Then she finds another cozy spot and again conks out.
It’s all so unbelievable to us we’ve been letting our guard down. A few times, she has awakened and wandered outside to chew on a few sticks and leaves. I noted this but didn’t think she was swallowing them. Yesterday, however, she developed diarrhea, and I have to blame our failure in oversight. She is, after all, still a very young puppy, if a drowsy and angelic one.