Eat your heart out, evil stairs!

Himself and I are not actually supposed to have Coburn. In fact, we live in an apartment that does not allow any pets at all. The decision to get Coburn was not one we made lightly - in fact, we have been planning and saving money for two years, but we wanted to have a house before we got our dog.

Many factors led us to made the decision to go ahead and get him even though we live in an apartment, but for obvious reasons, we have to be sneaky when it comes to walking him. This was extremely difficult at first, since Coburn was so terrified of the stairs he froze solid at the top.

Last weekend Coburn, my mom and I went to Redcliff to visit my favourite cousin, and I thought I would take the opportunity to teach Coburn how to use the stairs without the threat of being evicted. There are three sets of stairs in their house - a smaller, shallower set, a larger set and then the evil set from hell in the backyard. Even I'M afraid to go down those sometimes, especially if alcohol is involved.

Coburn and I started on the smallest stairs, which he ascended with only a little coaxing. No sweat! But descending the bigger set took stranding him at the top with his dinner at the bottom. Cruel? Nah. Hilarious, yes!

What shocked me though, was that mere hours after mastering the second set of stairs, Coburn very slowly climbed the evil stairs from hell. We were all on the deck and suddenly his little nose poked over the top step. We all jumped to our feet and cheered him on, and rushed to hug him when he made it up.

Now the stairs are no problem. In fact, sometimes he takes them so quickly he scares me! A few times he has fallen between the steps (and I've screamed!) but he just doesn't seem to notice his failures - or, more importantly, remember them. Each day he runs up and down those steps as though he never feared them at all. Why can't we humans do the same thing?

Screw the tags!

Every day Coburn proves to me, little by little, that he's fearless. Recently he conquered the dreaded stairs. He played with a german shephard/rotweiller cross named Rosco and didn't seem to notice a size difference. But the other day he did something truly courageous - something most humans just don't have the guts to do. Coburn tore all of the tags off his belongings.

He started with his bed, and I gasped! Coburn! You're not supposed to tear that off! He ignored me though, and by the time I tried to stop him, it was too late - the washing instructions and all that other nonsense was lying in a pile of slobber on the floor. Before I could think about his crime, he had Mr. Elephant's butt in his mouth, one paw on his head.

Weirdo squeeky frog was next, and then his kennel blanket. As I cleaned up the aftermath, I wondered - why don't we take the tags off our belongings? Shirts, beds, blankets - a stitch-ripper would do the trick without leaving any itchy remnants. Maybe Coburn has the right idea! Who needs these annoying bits of material anyhow!

I've vowed to rip more tags off things, beginning with my bed tags - just as soon as I work up the courage.

Dog has bum-in-chair effect

Dogs are great for work productivity. Coburn, my puppy, follows me around like – well, a puppy! And when I’m working, he’s napping under my desk. The instant I get up to do anything, even to walk ten steps to get a pen from the table, he wakes up, rises and follows me.He has these little doggy dreams – you know the ones I mean – where he’s chasing something in his sleep, his feet are kicking and he’s barking softly… the only time I’ve ever heard him bark is when he’s asleep. So, to rip him from his dreamland adventure by getting up to do anything makes me feel terrible! Therefore, I get far more work done now that I have my new puppy. The size of my bladder had better increase accordingly.

Welcome to The Along Came A Dog Blog!

Five days ago, my boyfriend (aka Himself) and I got our first puppy (against my landlord's wishes, but they don't need to know! haha). I knew I would never become one of those people who gushes over their pets or babies, or treat their pets like babies. Yet, my puppy has had such a profound influence on me in those five short days, that I am excited to talk to other dog owners. I'm not here to gush or talk about his bowel movements, just run a dignified blog that hopefully will be a source of information for me and others, and a chuckle for everyone else.

A bit about me:
I am a writer, and currently make my living as the Mystery Maiden, writing murder mystery games for sale at Shot In The Dark Mysteries. I have been dealing with the stay-in-bed-for-two-days-at-a-time side of depression, as well as trying to overcome generalized anxiety disorder. This is important to understand when I say that in the past five days, my stupid "I love my puppy" grin has not left my face. A bit about my puppy:
Our dog is a golden lab and is almost 9 weeks old. His name is Coburn, naamed after a street in Edinburgh on which Himself and I lived years ago. The street is actually called Cockburn, but most people don't know how to pronounce it properly, so I'll spell it phonetically.

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