Frigga Comes Home

This weekend is the May 2-4 long weekend here in Canada.  The Husband and I were supposed to go camping with friends, we were supposed be jumping in our Jeep and heading for our second weekend of Rock Crawling. The plan was to go up to Ardbeg on Friday May 16th and come home on Sunday the 18th and on the way home stop and pick up our pup, Frigga.
But we all know that we plan and the gods laugh.  We ended up picking up our girl Thursday night, and she was amazing on the way home. We put her in a kennel that we brought, but I decided that while she wasn’t complaining I should take her out and hold her on my lap, because the kennel was a bit small for her.  It was Wicket’s kennel and we misjudged just how much thicker and bigger than her brother Frigga would be.  So I decided before she got uncomfortable and started to cry that we’d let her out of her kennel and I’d hold her on my lap for the ride home.
After a few minutes of her crying and fidgeting she tucked her head under the blanket (we’d given the blanket to Monica the breeder so that it could be with Frigga and her siblings and therefore smell familiar to her) and fell asleep for the long ride home.
We got home late at night, so we gave her a drink and a snack, took her out into the yard for a bathroom break and then off to bed we all went.
The next day we did not leave bright and early for our camping trip. We’d cancelled those plans as soon as we knew we’d have a bright and shiny new puppy.  Only a fool would bring an 8 week old pup into the woods.

And so we spent the first weekend of Frigga being home with us, enjoying her watching. Marveling at all her little eccentricities that make her unique and so lovable.  She’s a sweet little girl and she’s already playing with little Wicket and a little leery of Mal, but I think it’s just because he’s larger than she’s used to and eventually she and he will become bosom buddies.

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About katastrophes1

Kat is a 20 something girl stuck in a 40 something body. Mom to 3 kids, tormented and amused by 3 crazy dogs. Amateur photographer, self taught crochet junkie. Thinker of crazy thoughts. Where do they come from? Who knows where thoughts occur, they just happen!
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