Street Legal Puggles

You know what’s cheap and easy?

(Are you done? Can I move on? Thanks.)

Getting a dog license.

To get a dog license you don’t have to prove yourself a responsible pet owner. All you need is proof of the rabies vaccination. Not distemper or bordetella. You don’t have to prove that you’re not making them subsist on Twinkies. The town officials don’t inspect the dog, they don’t ask it about its home life; your dog doesn’t have to perform tricks or do higher order mathematics. A copy of the vaccination record and, in my town, eight dollars and twenty cents is all you need.

Our puppies got the rabies shot as soon as they were old enough, but the vaccination record. That damn piece of paper sat in The Pile so long. . . let’s just say it’s a good thing it’s a three-year vaccine.

The task of getting the dogs licensed became something I remembered only when I was taking them for a walk, and, once I thought of it, I was filled with a certainty that they were going to be ticketed and flatbedded away at any moment.

notlikethat — What's the problem, officer?

mindingourown — This isn't what it looks like

casey — What kind of dog do you think I am?

In my defense (I’m starting to notice just how often I say that, and it seems to only be in relation to parenting or otherwise managing the household), I did go to the office that handles these things back in December, with the eight dollars (and twenty cents, per dog) and the damn piece of paper. The lady told me I should probably wait until January because I’d just have to do it all over again. Check that out: an actual town official, actively encouraging my procrastination. It may have been because I interrupted her lunch break.

For the record? This is the same office I had to go to for my marriage license.

I knew if they got busted, my coercion defense wouldn’t make any difference to the arresting officer. I’d end up have to get them a lawyer. It would be a legal nightmare.

Luckily I have experience in such matters.

pokey — Can't we just settle this between us?

CC finally took care of it last week. What a relief. Street Legal Puggles.

What have you had on your to-do list the longest?

MegaPuggle VS. Giant Octopus

Behold, Giant Octopus:

Behold, Giant Octopus with his tasty, squeaky heart ripped out.

(Yes, those are my unmentionables drying on the lamp. I was going to edit them out until I remembered that I don’t have or know Photoshop, at which point I ate a cookie.)

He is also missing some legs.

I have no idea how this happened, but I suspect MegaPuggle.

Who thinks that the only thing better than taking down Giant Octopus is the severed leg that turned sad, heart-free Hexapus into sadder, still-heart-free-with-a-giant-hole-in-its-head Pentapus.

Mmmmm. Severed tentacle.

In case you missed it, you should check out this movie. Debra “don’t-call-me-Debbie-when-referring-to-my-acting ” Gibson and Lorenzo Lamas in the same movie. My friend Jeff actually got paid to work on this. Or else someone he knew got paid to work on it in the studio next to him while he was working on Borat. No, that was before. I can’t remember. I’d ask him but he’s expecting his first child any second. Unless you hate babies, check out this trailer. I promise it’s worth it.

Happy Birthday, Goofballs.

When CC and I were on the road together years ago, back when he was just my boss, I used to ask him if we could get a sound department puppy. Preferably one that the props crew would take care of. Nobody went for it.

The kids started asking us when we were going to get a dog pretty much the minute they started living with us. We had lots of conversations about care and taking responsibility, but really it all boiled down to one thing: dog poop. We weren’t willing to talk seriously about a dog until all the kids unanimously agreed that they would handle the dog poop. It took longer than you might think.

I didn’t know this before, but puppies are contagious. All it takes is for one kid in the neighborhood to get a puppy and bam! everybody’s got one. There is apparently no vaccine.

Two years ago, a kid across the street got a puggle puppy and would bring it over to our house to play. It was summer, and CC was letting me sleep in until the puppy came over for its morning visit and then he would let it into our bedroom, where it would jump on my head and be all like “Oh my gooood! I’m a DOOOOG! Isn’t it GREAAAAT? I can’t BELIEEEEEEEVE it! YAAAAAAAY!”

It’s something, being around so much enthusiasm.

Before long I was online, looking for puppies. We did a little research and a lot of soul-searching and decided that more than anything we wanted a puppy that was happy. Enthusiastic, if you will. That led me to a puggle breeder about two hours away that had two puppies. They were the entire litter. I wrote a little about them here.

I packed four kids into the minivan one Sunday and trucked out on a road trip to look at some puppies.

We couldn’t decide. I’d thought that there would be some magical bond, some way that I would know The Right One For Us, but it wasn’t like that. Especially when there were only two to start with. It was more like eeny-meeny-miny-moe.

CC had to work and I sent him pictures, but he wouldn’t say which one he liked best. The kids were evenly split (#1 had opted out of the road trip). I wanted both of them, but that’s insane. Who gets two puppies? I picked the goofy looking one because he seemed to fit into our family the best:

He howled the entire way home, and he doesn’t look it, but he’s loud. That’s the Beagle in him. Then he pooped on my shirt. The kids thought that was hilarious.

As soon as we got him home, I realized the error I had made. Our puppy-to-kid ratio was way off. There was so not enough puppy to go around. Poor Jack was all tiny and blinking, cowering there with five kids hovering over him. CC admitted that he wouldn’t say which one he liked best because he wanted them both. I traded some texts with the breeder. They were willing to cut us a deal.

Three days later we went back for the pretty one:

When we brought her in the front door, Jack smelled her before he saw her and started dancing in circles around us. They were so happy to be back together. Then they immediately started fighting:

And it’s been like that ever since.

I will probably always refer to them as “the puppies” but today, Jack and Casey are two years old. They are ridiculous dogs. They are way more expensive than they should be. They are the one thing that we all agree on: we love them bunches.

Back when CC and I were just touring together, before any of this crazy stuff happened, I wasn’t ever planning on getting married to anyone or settling down on the east coast or buying a house or definitely not being a parent, but I did want a puppy.

I finally have a crew of five to take care of them.