So Shelby has made herself completely at home. She was a little uncertain when Mom and Sister Girl first brought her home, mostly because Sam wouldn't stop jumping around and sniffing at her, but quite honestly, I was surprised that that's all Sam did, because I had been a little worried about the Machismo of the Male Pom, myself. He actually seemed really excited and curious--as was Meko, insofar as she could smell or hear Shelby, because she is, as you will recall, mostly blind. Mom and George immediately went back out and bought Shelby some puppy-sized biscuits and a plush squeaky toy that has since been dubbed The Roo (quite sensibly, as it is, in fact, an orange kangaroo). While they were gone, Sister Girl (who selected the puppy's name) and I fed Shelby the puppy kibble they'd already brought home after the first trip, and Shelby tucked in like she'd never seen food before. She also found the dogs' water bowl by herself and started emptying it. She's a black and white terrier mix, with little pointy ears that kind of flop over a bit, and a long whippy tail. Her legs have a greyish look to them, like milk you've dipped too many Oreos in. (I'll put up some pictures as soon as Sister Girl downloads them from her camera.) She's already eight weeks old--when we got Lucky, he was only a few weeks old, since his mother accidentally got pregnant on her first heat and wasn't real into the whole mothering thing, so the breeders let us go ahead and take him home. This may be why he had such a deep attachment to us, now that I think about it. But he was basically an amoeba with fur at that point, black and white with long curly ears and a little snub nose that stretched out to an English cocker point as he got older. And it's funny, because when I look at Shelby now, she looks so much like Lucky did then. Except, you know, bigger. And a lot friskier--she's got a good bit of attitude, and is already standing up to Sam and trying to eat people's toes. Not to mention snacking on the spathiphyllum--no sooner have I wrestled a leaf out of her mouth than she's stretching back up like a grazing giraffe. She gallops around the house with that funny bouncy-uneven puppy gait, and the very first thing she did after she got over her initial shyness was to start exploring the kitchen, and no matter how many times we carried her back to the den, she would not be deterred. She also found one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the den and started beating on it with her paw. And then she took a nap. And then she got up and did everything all over again.
We had already decided that when we got a new puppy, we'd get two, so they'd have each other to play with--Meko's diabetic and incontinent, as I've mentioned, and though Sam still has only two modes ("Frisk" and "Cuddle"), he's already nine years old. He can't play with Meko, so now he'll have puppies to play with, and years from now (I hope), the terriers will have each other and probably a younger set of puppies as well. The cirrrrrrcle of liiiiiiiife and all that. And Shelby has a brother we wanted to bring home (Sister Girl promptly named him Buster, then changed her mind to Scout), but the doctor ran "some quick tests" before letting them leave his office, and it turns out that Scout has... parvo. This is not good ("Canine parvovirus is a particularly deadly disease among young puppies, causing gastrointestinal tract damage and dehydration as well as a cardiac syndrome in very young pups"). So he's either not going to make it at all, or he's going to be very sick, although Mom reports that he looked fine when she held him, if a little more shy than Shelby. Which is to say that he wasn't allowed to come home--I assume the vet's quarantined him somewhere and is trying to get him better. And of course, I didn't even know this dog existed twenty-four hours ago, and now I'm worried sick about him.
Bio-artists bridge art-science divide: "Adam Zaretsky once spent 48 hours playing Engelbert Humperdincks's "Greatest Hits" to a dish of E.coli bacteria to determine whether vibrations or sounds influenced bacterial growth. Watching the bacteria's antibiotic production increase, Zaretsky decided that perhaps even cells were annoyed by constant subjection to 'loud, really awful lounge music.' "
entropy_and_me: "I've noticed from the icons in your comments that you have more than a few Doctor Who admirers (myself included). I don't know if you yourself are much into Doctor Who, but I saw this interesting article this morning that says that the BBC has contracted with Google to allow archival and special edition video clips to be placed on youtube.com. I suspect much rejoicing will be heard throughout the lands when this hits fandom."