We found Teddy within days of Beau’s passing. He’s sweet, his breeder has SO MANY SCHIPPERKES, and he’s maturing into a sweet, bright, happy dog.

He plays Schipperkeep-away at least twice a day. He can open the clothes hamper, hop in,  grab a sock, and hop out before I can react to his being in the hamper. He drags his crate pad out and around the house until I can catch him. He jumps into our large pots on the patio, bite through the watering hose, make off with the stake and emitter, and chew the bejesus out of it so it’s no longer useable. He finds the peach pits that Oliver missed and crunches them on our patio furniture.He tries to deconstruct shoes. Tonight, while I was answering a call of nature, he jumped onto the dining room table and shredded the paper napkins all over the tablecloth and floor. Oliver will occasionally rat him out but does not deter or try to corner him. That chore is left to me. Or Chris, when he’s home.

Currently he is not, and Teddy steps up the mayhem in protest to His Favorite Human’s Absence. We’re talking 2-½ days. Basically he’s a puppy, 9 mos. old, smart, and determined. It’s been 10 years since we had a puppy, and I’ve forgotten much.

I also don’t remember having a dog this bold or focused on mayhem. Maybe that’s like childbirth — you don’t remember how hard you worked until you’re Lamaze-breathing again and wondering WTF you were thinking 9 months ago on your sister-in-law’s X-rated mattress.

As challenging as this guy can be, as much as I miss his predecessor, I wouldn’t change a thing. I love how interesting life is, and how it lobs you a curve ball you don’t want but can totally handle.