the reconstruction

Unlike the world-shattering cataclysm that is taking in an 8-week-old puppy, the process of getting your life back as the puppy ages is the definition of gradual. Things from the last week that would have seemed impossible to the Bryan of January 19th:

  • An evening spent in the south bay playing video games and drinking beer (thank you, Les).
  • A 2.5-hour absence from the Great Sous Monster to go to a meeting and do some work at the lab.
  • A trip with Sous to the lab to meet the graphics group.
  • A relaxing hour at our computers with Sous quietly chewing some unspeakably literal dried cow anatomy.
  • A day spent cleaning the apartment.
  • A ‘down’ from 15 feet away with no hand signal.
  • Reasonable confidence that when I put Sous down at 10:30pm she will let us sleep until 6am. Holy shit, this is the greatest thing ever.

These small victories have gone a long way toward repairing my psyche. Maybe its because the memory of my pre-dog life is fading, but I feel almost kinda sorta normal about facing a 45-minute walk at 6:30 every morning. And by the time 7pm rolls around, Sous is downright fun to be with. We started learning tricks (I taught her “shake” for Leslie’s birthday; she’s working on “roll over” now).

We’ve even started in on the new-age hippy clicker training that is all rage. I read a lot about it before taking the plunge. It seems unnecessary for a companion dog that you just want to well-mannered. But Sous has a big future of fetching beer for me, and as far as I can tell, clicker training is the way 90% of service animals and competitive obedience animals are trained. In my “beginner” clicker book there are instructions for teaching your dog to close cabinet doors, put errant dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and turn out lights. Think about it, man.

In the time I don’t spend molding my protégé, I’ve been working on a contract for a video game company that is doing a pretty good job of distracting me from my thesis. So I’m pushing hard to get that done so I can go back to my final sprint. Also, there’s this job search to do. It’s all seeming very possible these days.

double fisting

Jokes have been made by some parties that our little Sous-chef has a lot of expectations to live up to. While we will be happy with any life path she chooses, it is true that we want to offer her every opportunity to excel in the world of dog awesomeness. She comes from good stock, and at our play date last weekend she and her sister Peanut took a moment out for some synchronized sitting (double click to play):

[qt://overt.org/images/double_sit.mov 480 376]

We’ve got applications in already to all the best prep schools… you can never start these things too soon. Leslie is starting her on Rachmaninoff drills, though her real passion seems to be early Charlie Parker licks on her doggy-tenor sax.

yeah, new puppy = hard

I’ll just refer you to Les’s blog to see some nice, detailed posts about our new charge. She’s put things coherently and that’s something I’m probably not capable of at the moment. I’ve been run down, but I think I’m on the road to recovery. Tonight is my night to sleep instead of worrying about trips outside, which will make it my first good night of sleep since last Friday—what bliss. What a project we’ve undertaken. Here’s a picture that Clare took when she came over to offer moral support on night 3 that helps me take the whole thing less seriously: