(Yes, Steve. I got to name Milo, and the rest of the family dug their heels in on Steve, so there you go.)
Mr.4444 is happy to have his new hunting buddy,
who was chosen for his eagerness with a pheasant wing when we went to choose a pup.
At this point, our brothers weigh the same (5.5 pounds),
but Milo has the edge in fluff and maturity.
(He's about seven weeks older, so he has more stamina.)
I tell him to enjoy it while he can.
Of course, he tries to show Steve who's boss by taking away every toy Steve even gets a lick in on.
Here's how this particular battle went:
Although Steve loves his crate, he doesn't love sleeping alone
and keeps us up on and off, all night long;
I'm grateful that Mr.4444 is home this week to help carry the middle-of-the-night load.
(Totally reminds me of when our colicky Kyle was a newborn.)
We've gone backwards in time, having to potty train a puppy again.
Milo has been doing fantastic and continues to do so;
Steve--Well...what can I say?
For those worried about the puppies when I go back to school (on the 28th), don't;
I have a long line of puppy-lovers volunteering to come over throughout the day
when Mr.4444 isn't working at home.
However, I have no idea what I'm going to do about missing them when I'm at school.
Also, I've developed a sudden, wicked cold, complete with sneezing, itchy eyes, and coughing.
I'm completely exhausted but happy. (Wow--I hope I'm not allergic to Steve!)