One week on, One week off

By the time I had found Kizmet and his brothers and sisters online, I had picked out two names already. One was for a boy, the other for a girl, regardless of personality or any other distinguishing factors.

I tend to really like Spanish. I will frequently speak in Spanglish and I like to think I could actually be fluent if I only tried harder. Regardless of the reason, both of the names I had chosen were shortened from Spanish words: Ami (Ah-mee), short for Amiga (friend) for a little lady. For a boy, I had chosen Ben, short for Bendicíon (blessing).

Thus, Ben became his name. It seemed fitting and perfect for the sweet little dear curled up on my floor...If only I had given it more time, I probably would have re-thought the idea of naming him
"blessing."

That first week, my life settled into a pattern with little Ben; It was a pattern of focusing on him that continues to this day. I was house-sitting for my boss (who lived on the farm), so Ben and I had a chance to be together a lot and really bond. He was great as long as I paid attention to him. Watching a movie, he curled up on my lap and fell asleep, softly snoring. When I was trying to work, he oh-so-cutely pounced on my legs with a toy so I would play tug-of war with him.

Ben also got along famously with the three big dogs that lived at the house. There were two male labs, Jake and Ozzie, who loved having a wee one around to pick on. Ozzie especially seemed to enjoy not being the baby of the group, as he frequently stole chances to slide tackle or bark at Ben anytime we were outside. Kate, a loving golden retriever and the only female of the bunch, took it upon herself to "mother" Ben, as he was away from his own mom and pack and clearly needed her assistance. I suppose in her age, she mistook Ben for a helpless baby, and did not see the rambunctious toddler he was quickly becoming.

Nearly every time I set Ben down outside with Kate around, she would pick him up in her mouth and proceed to carry him off. To where, I never cared to find out. I always imagined she had noble intentions of taking him somewhere she could give him care and attention, rather than carting him off to be her own special plaything or snack.

Nevertheless, those three made it difficult for me to housebreak Ben. Each time as we stepped outside, I held Ben, wriggling and writhing in joy in my arms, as I tried to stealthily close the door behind me. I hoped that if I could get the door silently closed, and sneak over to the grass, Ben might actually have a shot at being able to do his business in peace, without fear of being slide-tackled or carried away by Mama Kate. Of course, Ben didn't actually help with the being quiet, pottying, going back to bed routine. Each time we stepped outside, he'd begin squirming and squealing and making little noises, which he does to this day. Of course, that brought the big dogs running to play.

So life went for a week or so, interspersed by exciting times of returning home and finding Ben had ripped the toilet paper to shreds (in the bathroom that I "puppy-proofed") or finding he had left little presents all over his crate for me (my fault for not making it smaller, I know).

By the end of the week, I found myself, my roommate and Ben all traveling to Nashville for the weekend, where Ben would then stay with my best friend until I returned from Italy, a week later. Though I knew she had little to no experience with dogs, and even less knowledge of puppies, I asked her to care for him while I was gone.

I missed his little furry body in my arms the whole time I was away, and I was anxious to get back to the States and hear how he had done. When Lauren picked me up from the airport, Ben in tow, I could tell by her readiness to give him to me that his little slumber party had not gone well.

"How did he do?" I asked. The only thing she said was that she hoped I hadn't expected him to be trained when I came back. Judging by her reluctance now to get a puppy, and her boyfriend's strong disapproval of Ben, I can only imagine he didn't follow the cardinal rule of vacations: Leave everything in better shape than you found it.