Conked out.

Me at my most angelic!  Sleeping!

He who dies with the most toys, wins.

Here's me playing with my Nina Ottosson Dog Brick Toy.  It was on sale at Amazon, so Jamie bought me the toy.    I am ten weeks old as of this past Thursday, and boy, am I a spitfire!  Always on the go!

And here I am, looking like a happy puppy should!

In which I play with my tuggr leash

What are you looking at?

Sitting pretty, no?

Attack puppy!

I tried to get cuter than this, but it's just not possible.

 

Oh wait, it totally is.

 And so forth.         

This is me grinning.  I've made my day. 

Chilly Bone

Just for kicked back Sunday giggles, here's a picture of me with my Chilly Bone (Jamie doesn't give it to me Chilly--it just kind of ends up cold and soggy):

I always make sure to look super petulant right before Jamie clicks the shutter!

Can't beat the real thing.

In which I conquer a plastic Coke bottle:

(N.B. Try not to become nauseated by Jamie's shaky-cam videography). 

Ziggy Nation

I've been here with Jamie for almost a week.  And what a week it's been! 

In a nutshell, I'm cute.  Totally and unabashedly cute.  Everybody wants to pet me.  And I love everybody.  Maybe a little too much with my sharky teeth, LOL. 

I still whine when I'm in my X pen.  Jamie seems to dislike this immensely, but I don't know why.  I'm just registering my Intense Disapproval, after all. 

But did I mention the cuteness?

Thought so ;-). 

Crossing paws

I have to admit.  I was giving Jamie a run for her money there, for a few days.  And I still might.

But I seem better this afternoon.

I whined.  And whined.  And whined. And whined. And whined.

Ad infinitum.

Not just at night when she put me in the crate (every hour, on the hour, wanting to go outside.  And Jamie willingly obliged.  SUCKER.)

When I was in my X pen in the kitchen, it didn't matter if Jamie was in the next room over in plain sight, I had to tell her how upset I was.  Frequently.  Loudly.  And more or less continuously.

And then somehow this afternoon, I seem to have pulled it together.  Toned it down a little.  Given her a break.  Maybe I'm starting to realize this place isn't for the birds, and I might like it here.  Maybe I realized she's not going to send me to live with birds (whatever that means.)  But I calmed down a mite.  Had fewer all out drama king fits.  Eased up a little, if you will.

But that's not saying I will tomorrow. (Plots in puppy fashion).

Play Ball!

This video is probably about as much fun as watching paint dry, as videos go (I can't believe Jamie made me write that.  I am Ziggy.  I am fun and interesting by my very nature.  Phewey on Jamie, says I. )  

Ah ha!  Success!  I believe I will press "publish" now. 

Ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille

I sure hope someone can find me a better, more talented paparazzi.  And soon.  Before I start losing my puppyhood charm.  Jamie just doesn't have what it takes.  I look so sad in the picture.  So... confused as to why yet another picture is being taken.  It's not even a scenic background.

But, I am cute, non?*

*See, I can even speak  a little French.  And so young!  But really, Jamie says I shouldn't get a big head about this.  She is trying to remind me about the book-eating incident.  Well, how embarrassing.  Do I make her reveal her youthful indiscretions on a public blog? I think not.   

Bark and the world barks with you.

Whine, and you whine alone.

Jamie here.  Ziggy says he's not to be held liable for the photograph-less-ness boringness of this post, nor its egregiously maudlin content.  However, I can't resist.

Well, after three solid days of puppy owning, I think I'm finally kind of getting the hang of having a puppy.

Ok, that was an outright lie.

LOL.

What I did remind myself of this morning and this afternoon and about a hundred times already today is how much joy a puppy brings not just myself, but lots of people, and even though it's in a very small way, we can all use a little happiness every day, never mind in these tough times.

Seriously.

Taking Ziggy out in the front lawn?

Strangers can't help themselves. Walking by, they ooh and ahh about the puppy.  Having a crummy day? Take a puppy for a walk. People will give two flying crabapples about your day, but they will want to pet your puppy, smile at your puppy, stop and tell you about their puppy. And it will make you feel better, somehow, no matter how rotten your day has been.)

Trust me. The beginning of the week had some very crummy non-puppy stuff in
store for me. Having a puppy, being sleep deprived because of said puppy, and
worrying about doing everything right by the puppy--it didn't make the
non-puppy stuff easier, I will admit. It would have been easier this week to be
puppy free.

But you know what did help? Ironically... having a puppy! The sheer joy and amazement the puppy holds for every single little thing humbles you. It makes you more keenly aware of things we take for granted, like sunshine (ok, so no one ever takes sunshine for granted where I live!) and clean air and a little breeze rippling through the blades of grass. Heck, even a blade of grass is SUPER AMAZING AND YOUR PUPPY WOULD TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT IF HE COULD.  (And he does--just look at his face, alive in wonderment!)

Seriously. Take a puppy along for a spin if you can. You'll be amazed at how, "LOOK MA! IT'S THE *WORLD*! ISN"T IT GREAT?!?!?" she is.

(Ziggy even managed to make the staff's day at the vet on Monday, just by being small and precious and cute, and I imagine at a vet's office, that's a pretty tall order given all the small and precious and cute they probably see in a given day!)

Loving a puppy, doing all the housetraining making sure you do right by your puppy... it is hard work. It seems never-ending. And yet it isn't.

This time is finite, and one day your puppy won't be a puppy any more. People will nod at you and your wonderful old dog as you walk sedately (or not) down the street. But they probably won't run over and ask you to pet your puppy with an ill-supressed glimmer of childhood remembered in their eye.

Life will be comfortable with the dog, one day in the future. You'll forget what's it's like to coax a puppy down the block for twenty five minutes because he's so darn interested in the neighbor, your shoes, your ankle, the pavement, the bird, the sky, the... everything... You'll hopefully be cleaning up fewer messes. You won't make the mistake I did last night and forget to lock the kennel door, and wake up to a shredded obedience book (message, there, to momma, Ziggy?) and if you did, your stuff won't be damaged.

But you won't ever have the puppy time back again. It's a gift that way.

A gift and a joy.

Celebrate your puppies and love the dogs they become!

 

Pulp Fiction.

Hi, all.  This is Ziggy, quite possible Seattle's Cutest Puppy.

Seriously.

I get, "Awwww, cuuuuuuute puppy!" remakrs from people I don't even know.  Virtual strangers, who look like they might otherwise pass by Jamie without so much as a "have an apple," stop, lean over, and pat pat pat me on the head.  Well-mannered children even want to play with me.

And who wouldn't?

Roster of puppy activities, as documented by Jamie's somewhat lacking iphone skills.  (This would be a lot more interesting if I had command of her iphone.  Namely, I wouldn't be bothering you with pictures.  I would be telling you how much fun I had chewing half a grand worth of plastic and electronic bits.)

Any way.  I digress:  

I sleep:

I also lay in repose:

And I'm an expert in "crashing out":

Did I mention I also play?  I am a fiend?  And a human finger/toe/clothing seeking little missile.  Not that you can tell from any of my videos, as I'm having technical difficulties (hey, I am only a puppy folks; did you master web browsing, blogging and video-publishing all in the first 8 weeks of your life?  I rather thought not.)

I promise to get Jamie to rectify this fix this shortly.

Love,

Ziggy, who does more than sleep, I promise
  
P.S.  Jamie says something about having me "obedience trained."  There's that "training" thing she clearly can't disavow herself of.  Foolish woman.  If only I had opposable thumbs, I would not have left the kennel door open last night after a late night trip to the loo.  This "obedience" book, as Jamie has it, suffered said fate:

 
Book, zero.  Ziggy, one.   (And yes, Jamie woke up before I  managed to consume the whole dull cellullose lot.  Why do people keep these things around, any way?  So full of wood pulp boring.

Gotcha Day!

Today was my Gotcha Day, as they say in dog circles.  What this means for me is that I came home with Jamie. 

And just to show her what I thought of that idea, I puked in my kennel for good measure. 

I'm such a cute little chap; Jamie's poor photographic skills really don't do me justice, but here's my mug:

 I'm having rather something of a day, and doing a fair bit of Protest Whining.  This X pen thing?  For the birds.  Certainly not on-the-go pups like myself.  (Jamie begs to differ.  She says I'll have more freedom when I'm housetrained.  There's that word again). 

Me, enjoying the fresh air:

Ah, the life of a young pup.  Free and easy.  Well, not so free, and not so easy, but we can all dream. 

My Precision Puppy Pen/ Prison, by Ziggy.

I don't care what Jamie has to say about this confinement to a puppy pen business jail; it's a prison in all but name until I say otherwise.   What dignified puppy would say any differently, I ask you, dear reader? 

Seriously!  Quick, people!  Someone call the ASPCA!  Or  PETA!  Or maybe Extreme Makeovers:  Home Edition, at the very least.  Because who in the world of caviar and happy romps on the banks of the Champs Elysee with French dilettante poodles named Georgette decided this thing monstrosity was "luxury pet living"?  Certainly not moi.  

Jamie claims this contraption, which looks like something directly modeled from the Spanish Inquisition torture chambers, will help me "housetrain."  I beg to differ.  I see nothing resembling a train here; not wheels, not a caboose, not a food car.. Nay,  nothing so refined as even steam engine in sight (*because all puppy's train references come from the 19th century, of course.  I'm mean, it's logical, yes?).  And  I certainly refuse to see what part of this chamber of doom is likened to a "house."

 Nay,  I fear it is as I expected.  It's a treacherous plot to keep me confined.  Me.  Little.  sweet. cute.  innocent. Ziggy.

Think of the children, ma'm!  THINK OF THEM NOW, I SAY. 

Well, Jamie can keep her raised flooring and removable waste tray and solid chrome bars instruments of torture.   

The war is not over, dear Jamie.  Oh no!  It has just begun, mon amie!

Vive le France chien libre! Et vive le resistance!

*Jamie's input, there.  

In which we introduce Wonder Westie, Ziggy.

Hi!  My name is Ziggy.  I am a five week old Westie pup, and already showing my literary abilities by writing vicariously from something called a McBook.  Or that's what it sounds like, any way.   It's bright and shiny and looks delicious, especially the rubber mat over the keys, which looks especially delectable.

Any way, I still live with my siblings and dog mom, in a land far, far West of Jamie*, who I met last week. She claims she will very soon be my mom. The calendar date for bringing me home is May 16, which means nothing to me, but I am told it is "very soon."  Any way, I'm not too sure about this "going home with Jamie" business, or what it means for me. How are all my siblings and mom going to fit in this contraption she calls a "car"?

Here is a picture of Jamie and me when fate brought us together last week:

She also says there will be a "car ride" involved to get me to her house. I sure hope "car ride" is synonymous with tasty food, because I have high gustatory sensibilities. I'm rather refined that way, you see.

She also says she's not sure of my name yet--says she might end up naming me "Gus." Oh boy. This "Jamie" character. Maybe I'll change *her* name and see how she likes it. This makes me wonder what she *is* sure of, frankly. I mean, I thought moms were supposed to be tough and in charge? My dog mom sure is! Boy, can't get anything past her, boy howdy. And I do try. I'm a very determined gent like that.

Speaking of my dog mom:  here she is.  Her name is Rosa, and she's a great mom and really sweet with humans.  Jamie loved her!  I want to be just like her when I grow up.

And of course, no puppy blog would be complete without a picture of me, zonked out after an exhausting day of meet 'n greets:

Well, I'm off to find a spot to do some more rough housing with my siblings, and maybe leave a classic Westie calling card. You know how those have to placed "just so." It's really an art form that humans don't understand too well, but just trust me on this one.


*NB:  Jamie here.  Ziggy currently lives about twenty five minutes from me.   Puppies and their tendency to hyperbolize... but, hey--it's all relative.