The Swiss Invasion

Sometimes sharing good news with friends and family can be a weird dynamic.  It's like when you tell your friends you are pregnant, and they automatically launch into tales of how they vomited for three straight weeks when THEY were pregnant, and how they were in labor for 72 hours, gained 70 pounds, blah blah blah.  Why is it they remember that crap more than the blessed event?  Why, even still, do they think you want to hear about it?  By that point it's a bit late for the have-you-thought-this-through discussion.

Sharing the news that we were about to become parents to two bernese mountain dogs was not terribly different.  I was surprised by the amount of good friends that gave a first response of "You must be crazy!" and "Two giant dogs?  Good luck with that!"  Did these people not recall that I had two wolfdog mixes not too long ago and lived to tell the tale?  I'm not exactly a rookie here.  Okay, maybe a rookie when it comes to actual puppies in the weeks-old sense instead of years-old but most family and friends zeroed in on the fact that this breed of dog gets big.  End of story. 

Funny thing was, they tell me this like they think I don't know that.  There is an annoying twang of better-you-than-me in their voices like they are sensing (hoping maybe?) an epic fail coming around the corner, which should prove to be quite entertaining.  At first I came up with feeble replies like "Yeah, I'm kinda crazy that way!" or "Hopefully I can handle it" until I realized I was making excuses for something I had no reason to excuse or apologize for.  Finally when the receptionist at the vet's office (who has seen it all, I imagine) said "Two???  Wow, you are going to have your hands full!" I was armed and ready.  I came back with "Yes, and I can't wait!"  That felt good!  Months of sitting at home playing computer solitaire and surfing the Hollywood gossip sites were going to come to a screeching halt and I was ready for the challenge.  Not only that, but I was more than ready to prove all the doubters wrong.  They're puppies, not neutron bombs, people.

The back story on how I found our two new additions and how we arranged to have them fly to us from Iowa with a layover in Dallas and how we bought a new SUV specifically so we could haul them home in style is a story for another time.  They came to join our family on September 4th and since I am behind in my recitations in this blog, I'll just cut to the airport scene.

First off, going to the airport to pick up puppies with two excited kids in tow is a recipe for disaster.  If you thought those "Are we there yet?" questions were annoying on your drive to Disneyland, try answering it every five minutes on the way to your destination and then again every two minutes while sitting on the edge of an airport baggage claim carousel, only now it's in the form of  "Are they here yet?"  When the rose-colored crate finally made an appearance in the special handling office, I thought the kids would keel over.  This was really happening!  My first thought was "Wow, I was expecting a bigger crate.  Are there really two of these guys in there?"  I will never again complain about my cramped middle seat in coach class with the guy in front of me reclined all the way...these guys were stuffed into this crate for nine hours!  My next thought was, "Let's get them out of there so they can stretch their legs before we drive home."

Yeah, maybe I'm a bit of a rookie after all.

We opened the door of the crate.  Both pups backed away, and Bodie (the brother) gave us his best WTF face while Leila (the sister) protested with  whiney-howl combo.  So much for that.  We figured we would just wait until we got home (another hour in the car) before attempting to extricate the crate contents again.  So for the next hour we listened to Leila howl and bark in protest in the back of the SUV and if we could see them, I swear we would have seen Bodie roll his eyes.  Siblings are siblings the world over, regardless of species.

Let the games begin!