Teenager...

 Fae has been a pretty much perfect puppy. I've raised many a dog in my life, and she has been by far the easiest. She's calm and confident and was easy to housebreak, with very few accidents (and all of those in the grooming studio, where, despite rigorous cleaning, it must smell like dog to a dog). She has consistently slept through the night since the beginning, and even though she is only 5 months old, she can be left alone in the house for an hour or two without any problems. She has not chewed on shoes or furniture, either. Other than struggling with car sickness, she has been a breeze to live with. She walks politely on a leash and knows all the basic obedience commands, as well as a few fun tricks. 

Yesterday, a friend told me that Hannaford grocery store had lobster rolls for $9.99 at their deli counter. I was on my way to grocery shop right after she told me that, so I looked for them, and sure enough, a large roll stuffed with lobster found its way into my cart. I happily anticipated enjoying it for lunch, walking up and down the aisles, and driving home. After I had put all the food away, I sat down to see if the bargain-priced crustacean tasted as good as I expected. 

Just as I was ready to take the first bite, a friend stopped by. I went out to chat with him. When I returned, practically drooling about my lunch, I found a perfectly empty plate. I had stupidly left the treat in easy reach of a dog. Despite her practical perfection, Fae took full advantage of the unexpected delight. 

Not only was I terribly sad about this, but I was worried that my dog might experience gastric distress. I considered forcing her to vomit, but decided against it. I braced myself for a night of being woken up to take her out. But no, she slept peacefully, apparently happily digesting my treat.  

This afternoon I was enjoying time on the deck. Fae was outside with me, and I watched her doing all her typical things. Then I couldn't see her but could hear a funny sound. I looked over the side of the railing, and there was my puppy, digging with gusto in a planter that was full of dirt and weeds because I had not planted any flowers in it this year. She dug like she was looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, scattering dirt in every direction and apparently having a marvelous time. She looked up at me, her long snout and previously white feet covered in soil. I swear she was smiling. 

My wonder puppy is a teenager.