In most ways, he’s obviously a lab. But he’s 98 pounds, but not fat, which is big for a lab. And his ears are very low-set on his head. And his muzzle, rather than being a rectangle, is pointy, with a downward curve towards his nose. Plus, he has a lot of loose skin on his neck.
I suspect, therefore, that Sonnyboy has a coonhound grandparent.
It’s just very loud when the whole family is together. Which I find lovely, but also somewhat draining. My reader is done with Ben & Sue and has–as seems to be the case with this manuscript–put her finger right on the problem which seems obvious now that she’s said it, but which I could not see myself. I want to be thinking about that as well as enjoying family togetherness, but that’s not how it really works with them.
We finally sat down to look at Sonnyboy’s vet record. It says he’s a lab mix, that he just got fixed, and that he was probably born in September of ’09. That makes him four. Their life expectancy is ten to twelve. So, that’s kind of a bummer. And yet, he should be someone’s pet. That’s the thing about him that, when you meet him, rings true. This is a dog who should be in a house and who should have people who love him. And we needed someone to love, so why not us? The time is always too short.
Anyway, we learned the hard way yesterday that him running through the house in big circles means he has to shit. And will do so in the house if you can’t see his clear signal. Okay, we got it, buddy.
Tiny Cat Pants 