Greetings from the bottom of the well...

Who knew that a small change like adding a 9-pound puppy to the household would throw off my life so much? It's official: I'm a wimp. Causing me to ask: Is there such a syndrome as post-puppy-partum depression? I think I might have had a touch of it.

But we've all gotten acquainted and I'm realizing I really can put him in the crate and leave the house or shower or work (SO not like a baby!) so I'm slowly getting back to all my other details.

By the way, I promise this will not turn into a dog blog but here are the final few pending bits of info:

His name is Louis (we say it Louie)--a shout out to Louis Armstrong not the French kings (not that there's anything wrong with French kings or anything). It took us an embarrassingly long time to decide. (Or, rather, we had each decided on something different and WOULD NOT BE BUDGED). Apparently consensus builders we are not. After complex negotiations (and my take-charge moment at the vet) it's Louie. Unless something better comes along. Just kidding. Kind of.

Someone asked what breed he is. He's a Tibetan terrier (hopefully not Tibetan terror, which is what I first typed). They're supposed to be great companion dogs, very sensitive to their family, calm when inside and playful outside, and love to go in the car on adventures. As I said before, my marriage is riding on the hope that this is true. {Not really. G has been pretty great about Louie*. He even took him to soccer practice tonight.} A lot of the write-ups I found said that Tibetans have a great sense of humor. What does that mean in a dog? Does he pop up suddenly with a fake nose? Do impressions of cats? Tell knock-knock jokes?

So that's it for the dog lore. I promise to move on to talking about laundry (very plentiful here) or lilacs (they're gorgeous in our yard right now) or knuckle-cracking or something else equally fascinating.

*especially considering that he sleeps in his crate next to our bed. In order to minimize the night-time whining and crying. Greg didn't even want our BABIES, our very own posterity, to sleep in our room. But we tried it the other way, with the pup in the crate downstairs and he cried for hours. He doesn't say a peep in the crate when it's in our room. Louie 1, humans 0.