I wanted to mark the seventeenth of November as the day following my last full night sleep … at least for a while.

That next day we drove out to the country, met with a woman with whom I’d been corresponding for about four months, and drove home with an eight-week old puppy.

Cricket is a toy-sized miniature Australian Shepherd. I’ve been reading and I’m not sure there is an official “toy aussie” breed designation, but simply: miniature is smaller than standard, toy-sized is a runt-version of the miniature. Her grandmother was a miniature, her mom was a small miniature, and she will likely grow to be a tiny miniature. Clear as mud?

She’s tiny, smart, spry, and full of energy.

It’s been over four years since we had a dog running around the house. Our last pup, Sparkle, was a purebred whippet who passed in 2016 after a short battle with acute heart disease.

The new addition to the house is likely to have a very different temperament and energy level. Also, she will likely tolerate, and maybe even appreciate, the winter city where we live.

So far, it’s been the typical first-week puppy duties: getting her licensed, setting up a vet appointment, taking her to countless video calls to show her cute face everyone, and making mad-dashes to the backyard to try and teach basic potty-training skills.

Oh, and lots of whimpering and barking when we stop giving her our complete and undivided attention. It’s been as much a struggle for me as it has for her.

The adventure (dog) begins.

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