TazMan has been here a couple weeks now, and coming to us at a whopping ten weeks old has been rewarding, happifying, and challenging.

For starters, oh my effing dog! Puppy teeth! Haven’t dealt with these in decades. We’re still working on this one. He’s young enough that they’re not at all loose. This biting phase can stop anytime now. Good news is that he’s realizing mom stops petting or playing when he nips, so he nips less.

And behavioral training. I must say this at least five times a day … “This is Squiggles’ food. Yours is over there.” Yeah, this is gonna be awhile. Both dogs are well aware that the other dog has the better food. I feed in separate bowls because someday, one may need medication that’s inappropriate for the other. As for right now, she has adult dog food, and he has puppy food.

Then there’s potty patrol. Speaking of things I haven’t had to do in decades … plus, conventional wisdom, or at least what I’ve been told, is that this doesn’t start until the digestive tract is mature, which happens around the same time the puppy teeth fall out.

Ya know. The ones still firmly planted in his face.

So his first week was pretty much a whirlwind tour of what comes out of a puppy. Good news is that the carpets are so old they need to be replaced anyway. We’ll just wait awhile longer until he’s past this.

For the first few days, TazMan was small enough to use Jr’s old belly bands. Except that only helps with one of the three outgoing orifices. So, when he outgrew the belly bands, he and Squiggles shared diapers. Cleaned, of course.

See, Taz thought that outside was for running and playing. Then he’d rush in and pee just inside the door. Or just before going out. Um, so much no.

Unfortunately, Squiggles was all like, if the puppy can do it, so can I! Hence the shared diapers she hadn’t needed to wear anymore.

Well, we seem to have moved past this. Kinda. Mostly. Maybe?

Last night was a new treat! In short:

[Taz] mommy, mommy, I gotta potty, right now!

[Me] ok, ok, I’m conscious. Please stop squirming all over my head and licking my face so I stand up.

[Taz] no no no no … now! … leaps off my face, onto the other dog, who was sound asleep and a tad startled, flinging him onto the soft cushy chair next to the bed.

[Me] laughing. A lot. Grabbed the Taz, carried him outside (to avoid that whole peeing just inside the door thing), opened the door, put him on the steps, closed the door.

[Taz] mom! I’m out here alone! I’m gonna die, I just know it! Mom mom mom mom I’m gonna die! Oh my effing dog I’m … peeeeeeeeeeeeee … gonna die! Save me! Save me save me save me save … oh, there you are!

[Me] opened door, and let him in. Apparently so he could barf. Just inside the door.

That’s nifty. Thank you, Taz.

And so our lives went for over an hour before he’d finally do #2 all by himself outside. At which point, Squiggles was all like, hey! My turn! And out they both went.

That started shortly before 2:30am.

We did all of it. Again. Full on repeat. At 5am. And 7am.

Seriously, why is life better with dogs? Oh, that’s right. Because other than these little snafus, they’re hilarious, loving bundles of playful joy.