We have a Moose! A sweet, cuddly, baby Moose! After much anticipation, Saturday saw the two of us setting off in the trusty Renault Clio to Lincolnshire, where our new canine buddy was waiting for us to bring him to his new home. I was basically peeing myself with excitement, but Matthew reminded me that soon Moose would be doing enough peeing for all of us, so I contained myself as best as I could.
The long drive to Lincolnshire was interrupted by a planned lunch stop. We ended up in the (ahem) lovely oasis of Huntingdon, where we had to search for the pub recommended to us in the 2006 Good Pub Guide. We learned a couple things during this little outing. First of all, combining a town's main parking lot with a grocery store parking lot is a bad idea, particularly on Saturday afternoons. As a result, we found ourselves in perhaps the most vicious battle for space ever known to man. We prevailed, however, when a departing shopper not only gave us her parking space but also the remaining time on her parking slip. Success! Second, despite the fact that the BlackBerry really is God's gift to the internet obsessed and directionally challenged, Google Maps is not infallible. For the third time in just a few weeks, I found myself following mystifying Google directions, despite the fact that I knew that they made no sense. And Matthew, who knows me well enough to know that I believe my BlackBerry is omniscient, allowed me to follow my devil-phone until I was hungry and frustrated enough to concede defeat. At which point Matthew led us directly to the pub.
Stupid men and their sense of direction.
I still love my BlackBerry.
Back to the story, though. Our lunch was lovely, though of course my caesar salad came with lovely eggs on top, which looked so enticing that for the second time in a week I found myself confirming that I am, in fact, allergic to them. Boo. Soon enough, we found ourselves back on track and speeding through the Fens toward Moose.
The Fens are seriously bleak. Like Iowa. It's not exactly a boring drive, although there is certainly not a lot to see. What saves the region from being truly bleak is the rumor (I say rumor because I haven't taken the time to confirm the details) that it is all drained, reclaimed marshland. Which explains why it is so flat. The roads are also incredibly wild--narrow, winding, and usually lined by deep, wide ditches on either side. We were even treated to the sight of a car upside-down in one of these ditches. Sweet.
About three hours in the car, a half a can of Texas BBQ Pringles, and a good dose of Radiohead later, we arrived at Nut Walk Farm, the original Moose lair. Rachael Reddin and her mother were waiting for us (we were, after all, almost an hour late) with Moose, who was clean, brushed, and hyper!
Actually, I had been dreading taking the poor puppy away from his mother and litter. I know it is a really human thing to feel guilty about something like this. After all, he won't remember it after a short while, and Lord knows that Moose is going to have a fantastic life with Matthew and me. But look, I AM human, so I think I deserve just a little bit of understanding when I admit that I was feeling sad about stealing Moose away from his Mommy. Moose didn't seem to be too bothered by the whole thing. He was bouncing about the room lightheartedly, and took to the toy hedgehog that we brought for him like it was his new best friend.
Rachael and her mother seemed to agree with our initial assessment of Moose. They told us that if they had been planning to keep one of the puppies for breeding, it would be Moose. He is a beautiful, sweet dog, I must say. Although he was being a little horror, as Rachael put it, when we came to get him (he was running around like a kid on caffeine and bonked his head on every substantial object in the room), he is actually pretty calm most of the time.
This was made particularly apparent on our three hour drive home. I should point out for those in the know that Moose's trip home was considerably less dramatic than certain other doggies' trips. There was no whining, we didn't get a flat, and we certainly didn't end up on fire on the side of the road in the middle of Idaho. No, Moose's trip went off without a hitch. Until, that is, he vomited all over his crate. Thanks, Moose!
Since our arrival at home, Moose has settled in very well. He is, on some levels, incredibly adaptable. He has one spot in the backyard where he likes to do his business. This spot, unfortunately, happens to be the place where we put an old doormat. Thankfully this mat is not right outside the door and was sitting on the patio while we figured out what to do with it! He also has taken very well to his crate and often just goes in there to sleep. As I write, he is quietly sitting in his crate, and he has been for more than an hour!
He is not the perfect angel. Not yet. Thus far this evening he has peed on the floor (only about five minutes after he peed outside), done laps around the living room, and continued in his mission to eat the dining room table. I suspect that left unchecked, he could actually get pretty far on that goal. Those teeth are damn sharp!
Matthew and I are enjoying having our puppy, though we are both looking forward to sleeping through the night and not having 6:00 AM wake up calls! Yeah, yeah, I know that those of you with tiny preemie infants are crying a river for me at this very moment. But damn it, on Friday morning I slept until 11 and then wandered downstairs to watch Gilmore Girls, Deadliest Catch, and Ice Road Truckers before getting any kind of meaningful start on my day. And before that I was sleeping in, wandering to one lecture a day, and then studying in the Rad Cam for a few hours before going to the pub. This is a shock to the system.
Welcome to our lives, Moose. We love you already.
But freaking sleep in once in a while, won't you?
