I
think it must be Brody’s first time on grass – he bounds along like a happy
new-born lamb, reaching about a foot in the air. Tracey and the kids are out in
their garden next door, and there’s plenty of “Awws” and “Aars”, and the children wanting
to have a hold, but Tracey is sensibly saying to let him settle in with us,
seeing as he’s just literally come through the gate, and we’ve not even had a
chance of holding him ourselves yet. After a brief investigation of the garden,
we show Brody into the house. After having travelled a fair distance in the car
with Steve, Brody is now sticking close to him, and is not sure what to make of
these two other strange females. Well, show no fear little pup because we’re
now going to calm you down by flashing bright lights in your eyes from all
directions as we all take a zillion photos!
He is being very brave. We all turn
into the sheep as we all follow him around the house, watching his every
movement. It’s like the puppy version of The Truman Show. The rest of the
evening is spent watching him eat (very
quickly), making sure we take him outside every 5 mins for a toilet break, and
also regretting that we were wearing clothes with dangly attachments. Clothes with
dangly attachments, it turns out, are a draw for puppies. They just want to
either a) hang off them, or b) chew them. At bedtime we put down loads of
newspaper on our bedroom floor, and put his bed in our room. He christens the
paper immediately with a number one and two. And so it begins. During the
night, any snuffle or movement from his bed wakes me up in a panic and I elbow
Steve to take him out. (Well, he is closest to him). But there is no whining
all night (Brody that is, not Steve), he is brilliant.
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