Brother just left this morning to go back to the (actually, warmer and less snowy) wastes of Wyoming. Which means I no longer have a puppy sitter at home. Which means that my mother and I spent a couple hours this morning moving the dining table into the living room, setting up a folding table, picking up things that are easily destroyed… you know, puppy-proofing the house. Now we have the dog door open and the dining room closed off to the rest of the house, and I’m at work hoping nothing horrible happens.

Probably going to be taking a few longer lunch breaks and going the 20 miles back home from now on. Luckily, my mother sometimes drives by for her work and can stop in, and the neighbors (the good ones, not the crazy ones) have offered to come over and check on the dogs if needed, so I think we can do this for a few months ’til puppy grows out of her teeth and stops chewing on everything…


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