Going on Eleven Months

34 inches tall, 110 pounds of puppy. Fingal has a wonderful, sweet disposition, but he's a TEENAGER! He smells it and acts it. Walking him and Taz can be pleasant or a trial, depending on how frisky he is. When he starts leaping in circles, there's nothing to do but turn around and go home. I'll take photos as soon as he will stand still. He's into eating paper. Three Library books and several of mine. I accidentally ordered two copies of Phil Rickman's new book, The Bones of Avalon, (see Bibliomania) which was fortunate, because he ate one copy before I read it. As a friend said, I have a very literary dog. He has been bawled out enough to greet me at the front door looking guilty when he's devoured something while I'm away. He looks so pitiful. "I know I did wrong but that (book, magazine,  roll of paper towels, cardboard box) was just lying there.

He makes me laugh many times a day. He's worth the effort. I keep remembering how totally awful Taz was at this age, and assuring myself he's not as bad as she was. He hasn't carried a sofa cushion outside.