Wednesday, September 05, 2012
He wriggles nonstop. I wanted to take a picture of him without using harsh light or a flash, so I had to be very patient, using available light, only. Eventually, I got this. I said, "Finally, he is holding still long enough to snap a decent picture." My wife asked, "Do you know why? That's because he's piddling on our couch." D'oh! (Yet another reason to call him Spot, right?)
We cleaned it up right away, and there wasn't any permanent damage, so I think it was worth the hassle.
Last Saturday, they said they estimate that he is two weeks old, and he's probably a Pitt Bull Terrier. We have to wash our hands any time we want to touch him. And like babies are wont to do, he quicly manages to clamp on to a finger and attempts to extract milk from it. That felt strange and very funny when he didn't have teeth, but they're already starting to come in. Tiny, sharp teeth have made their way past the gums. At this rate, he'll shred the nipple off the baby bottle before the week is done.
I wonder how much damage this poor little guy will suffer because of being separated from the natural family bond that is supposed to occur at this stage. Not too much, I hope. I've known pit bulls that have been raised to be very kind and gentle family pets.