Thursday, March 3, 2011

The Great Puppy Saga of 2011 Continues...

Well, it seems that the Universe is urging me to practice patience just a little bit more.
Hutch

If you'll recall, I'm waiting for a male German Shepherd. I'm fourth on the waiting list. The first litter I had been waiting for was the pairing of Lotus and Hutch. There were four pups altogether, but only two males in this litter.

Not to worry! There was another litter expected within days of the first one, from Mona (a black Shepherd) and Jacob, and surely that one would yield a little male for us. No dice. Not only did poor Mona have to have an emergency C-section, but out of five pups, only one male was born. Bummer! (Mona is doing great now, BTW. For puppy videos, click here if you're on Facebook. I swear, there are few things cuter than newborn puppies!)


Shelby

So Mr. ShellHawk and I have settled in for another wait. The latest wait is to find out if the newest "surrogate mother," Shelby, is pregnant. She was bred around Valentine's day, and it will take about five weeks to know with any accuracy if she "took." That puts it around March 21st or so before we find out, and mid-June before he comes home. If she doesn't have an entire litter of females, that is!

I had done a little research into another breeder, just to compare dogs, and came up with a woman who had lived in the Sacramento area (but recently moved into Oregon) Salhaus German Shepherds.  Like Sprague's, she breeds for the large, straight-backed GSDs, and was very friendly and informative when I spoke with her on the phone. Her male is bigger than Hutch, and we almost went ahead with Salhaus because we do want a larger male. We discovered that Shelby is descended from the Salhaus line anyway, so we opted to stay with our current breeder and wait. 

I realize how strangely obsessive this must sound. I mean, how hard is it to pick a puppy? Well, here's the thing: I will fall head over heels for whatever puppy is placed in my arms, regardless of any glaringly obvious faults the pup may have, because I am:
1) a soft touch, and
2) a self-admitted suicidally optimistic person. 

Seriously. The dog could be Cujo and I would probably say something like, "Oh, he's just tired and probably having some growing pains. He'll be fine!" Or, "Sure, he ripped your arm off! You clearly weren't in a calm-assertive state when you grabbed his tail! It's your fault, really. Isn't he cute, gnawing on your ulna like that? Awww."

So the point of all this overthinking is that I want to make as much of an intellectual decision before I even lay eyes on my new companion, because I will be totally sucked in by those puppy eyes. It's a given. I will gird myself, and I will fall irrationally in love, in spite of it.

Maybe I need a calming circle.

Is it the 21st, yet? *sigh*

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