I have spent the day getting used to the idea that my growing belly is actually going to be a little girl with her own personality, likes and dislikes. I wonder who she is. This I thought would be the rest of my day, getting used to the idea of a little person being formed and wondering about her. Jeff and I would excitedly discuss our new discovery into the night. This, I thought, would be my day. Until dinner.
Jeff has been so kind as to volunteer to empty the sewer tank on the camper. This is usually my job and I have already taken care of the nasty part, draining the actual sewer, but you then have to refill it a bit with water. I, unfortunately, left the water running for about 30 minutes too long and it needs to be drained back down to a suitable level. Jeff heads outside to pull the plug. My handy-dandy walkie-talkie phone buzzes: “Look outside and see what I’ve found!” I look out the window and see Jeff on his hands and knees playing with, of all things, a puppy. Not just any puppy, but the kind of puppy that still has no coordination, is little and fuzzy. Maybe 4-6 weeks old. The kind that steals your heart. Of course I rush outside to take part as well, all baby thoughts forgotten.
It’s cold outside and what else can you do with a wiggly little puppy but bring it inside. This is mistake #1… the invitation. Puppy comes inside. Now what? Maybe he’s hungry. I decide the only suitable item in the camper for Puppy is 2% milk. He drinks two bowl fulls. Now with full belly and a warm body he gets sleepy and falls asleep. Where did Puppy come from? He has no collar or tags. There are wild dogs that live in the marshland on two sides of us… perhaps he’s from a litter of wild puppies. That’s the most exciting explanation and the one we choose to go with. It’s at this point we notice the bugs. Fleas to be specific.
If you are not an expert on fleas, as I was not, here’s some insight: fleas like warm, humid climates… like Louisiana. Thus our problem. I realized the reason I am not an expert on fleas, nor have I had any previous contact with them, is because I have lived only in dry, arid climates where it gets cold. Apparently, not ideal flea conditions. We decide we can’t keep Puppy inside with fleas running all over him, so Jeff heads to PetCo. $22.69 later, we have flea shampoo and puppy kibble as I have researched via Google that 2% milk is not suitable for Puppy. This is mistake #2… investment.
Puppy bath time ensues. Bath time is held in our itty-bitty bathroom that consists of a tiny tub/ shower and a tiny toilet. Only one person can fit at a time and since we decide the flea chemicals wouldn’t be good for me to touch, Jeff begins the bathing process. I, in turn, become the videographer. The directions say to wet Puppy thoroughly and then get a good lather going. Puppy does not like being wet or lathered. You would think we were performing Chinese torture on the little guy with all the yelping going. He tries to escape twice and then decides to just stand there and take it, shaking violently and making the most horrendous sound. Puppy is sure dirty. By the time rinsing comes, the water is black. Hopefully fleas are dead.
Puppy is looking pretty pathetic at this point…wet, shivering and whimpering. He falls asleep in Jeff’s arms. It’s probably been a rough day.
The thought on both our minds… maybe we can keep him? Mistake #3… deliberation.