eleven months

*photo credit: Petite Artiste*

The puppies, or poopies as we like to refer to them (our loving nickname), turn eleven months today. In other words, we have survived 11 months of puppy craziness aka potty training hell . And, finally, finally (knock on wood) I think they are finally starting to the hang of doing their actual business outside. Oy!

Also in these eleven months, their personalities have become pronounced. Franklin is big and fluffy. Named after FDR whose constant companion was Fala. Plus, it cost a few Franklins to "adopt" these two pups. His bark is deep and long, almost like a howl from a hound-dog. He has big puppy-dog eyes looking like he is wearing too much eye liner and he likes to look up at you pleading for treats and love. But don't be fooled, this lug of a guy has a super sensitive tummy which results in lots of unpleasant things dropped around the house. Which he promptly tries to eat. Blech! Franklin is mellow and very patient, except when he uses his big nose to push open the door and run down the street in search of the neighbor Scotties. Which was exactly what he did yesterday afternoon. He somehow gets on top of tables in search of leftovers, and sits in chairs like an old man. It's pretty funny.

Mavis is a whole other dog. Really I'm surprised they came from the same litter. She is quick and spunky and oh-so very testy. Named after the song thrush. At the time we had no idea how fitting the name would be for her. Mavis talks all the time with this high pitched, bone jolting bark. And, for its weight, the Mavis bird has one of the loudest bird calls. Coincidence? She has a hard time sitting still and being quiet. She requires puppy Valium to be groomed. She bosses Franklin around and firmly believes she is the sole owner of me rather the other way around. Mavis was the only black dog of the litter (dad is black, mom is wheaton) and also the runt. She is little, but has the classic confirmation people most often attribute to Scottish Terriers. She sports the best beard in the house by far and her favorite sport is tug-o-war. She looks tough but she is really a big scaredycat. When she isn't patrolling the house and outlining outside areas, barking at anything that moves or is suspicious, she is either at my feet or on my lap.