Taquito Chronicles: Day Four

This morning I woke up with a 17-pound Chihuahua in my bed, curled up by my side with his head on my arm. He looked up at me with the sweetest tired little look and totally pretended that I didn't tell him REPEATEDLY last night that he will not be sleeping in my bed, under any circumstances. Unintended consequence of taking an Ambien. Sigh.

Last night I walked Pooka, Olli and 'Quito together and didn't die. Today, a solo walk with the little one was actually pleasant -- he didn't pull at all for most of the walk. And as far as I know, he didn't lift his leg in the house (yet) today. Now, we just need to work on the shrieking cries when I lock him in the crate and the snarly face that emerges when he's cuddled up to me and one of the other dogs comes by.

Pooka and Olli are being real troopers about the disruption in normal operations. They're still mostly ignoring him except to steal a good sniff now and then. This morning they were romping around as usual, while 'Quito looked on with some curiosity and tried to keep from getting trampled.

O. and I have been discussing the profile of a perfect adoptive home for the little man. We're thinking, little old lady, maybe? Your thoughts are always welcome, readers.