To say that I research a new interest obsessively is an understatement. When I decided to get out of debt, I devoured books by Dave Ramsey, subscribed to nearly 100 personal finance blogs and kept a tracker of my remaining debt which I updated at least twice a day. When I decided to get sober, I read a dozen sobriety memoirs in a month’s time and made myself publicly accountable here at the blog. I’ve wanted a dog for the better part of five years but haven’t 1) lived in a place that allowed them and 2) had the true bandwidth to care for and raise a good dog. Until now. A week ago, Sarah Jane accompanied me three and a half hours south on to a dirt road and BLM land to pick up my new forever companion.
Meet Boris von Snicklefritz (or Bobo V. S-Fritz on the streets):
He’s a long haired miniature dachshund and he’s ten weeks old today. I’m dashing home from work twice a day during the week for bathroom and treat breaks, attending puppy obedience classes, devouring entire dog books in one sitting, watching an obscene amount of KikoPup videos, clicker training, and generally wringing my hands about how to make him into the best possible adult version of himself. By nature, dachshunds are bold and fearless. Despite his small size, he’s a serious hound; all pride, nose and ready to try anything. I recognize that I have my training work cut out for me but I’m really happy. Drew, who has never owned a dog, is also pleased as punch. I’m reminding myself to relish the quiet puppy hours and the frisky romps followed by three hour comas while they last.
I can feel my blood pressure going down already. Life begins when you get a dog.