Change...an inevitable phenomenon in this universe. One cannot exist without experiencing some sort of change in every minute of every day of every lifetime (assuming we have more than one lifetime...isn't it a nice thought, that we get to either do this one over with better or different results or try out a new one just for the heck of it?). My major change this week revolved around my puppy, Tyler, who is now no longer my puppy.

I haven't been on the boards or inside of my journal very much lately. Lots of factors have affected that absence, but one of them was the addition of a very obstinate, very incorrigible, very manipulative, yet very adorable mini beagle (who I actually question whether he is actually a mini beagle because the breeder did lie to me about his health history). I had been out in Los Angeles this past weekend and left Tyler with a renowned puppy trainer who had been recommended to me by my vet. She has been boarding dogs and training puppies professionally for years, and when I came to pick him up this Monday (on my birthday), I heard the words that I have been announcing to every other person: "He's a devil dog." Now, everyone said, "Noooo, Jodi. You must be wrong. Nothing that cute and adorable and sweet looking could possibly be the devil." In fact, one person close to me said, "Jodi, you're over 100 pounds; he's about seven pounds. Do you really think I would believe he's attacking you and you can't get away?" Alas, it was true. The seven-pound bundle of fur and floppy ears and dark chocolate eyes and speckled tummy that looked like a Buddha belly was something that the trainer advised me to keep away from children to prevent any lawsuits after a possible biting incident that could occur if Tyler was touched the wrong the way or if he mistook a human finger for a chew toy. That made my decision. Too many children look at the beagle and think he is a toy and thus scream and giggle and jump up and down and tug and play with the wriggling beast, and that beast must be able to handle the excitement and take it all in stride and not start chomping away at anything near its mouth like PacMan on the hunt for the ghosts.

The sale of him was meant to be. I'm beginning to question whether coincidences actually occur in life, and whether anything could actually be perceived as random anymore. The very day that I decided I couldn't keep the little monster was the same day that I had to venture into the leasing office for another piece of business and ended up walking out with the leasing agent's phone number and an insistent request to bring the "bundle of joy" in before the work day's end. By the next morning, she and her boyfriend agreed to pay me in cash what I had originally paid for Tyler, and they received one incorrigible beagle puppy, one crate, one bed, a million toys, a brand new bag of puppy food, two bags of treats, nail clippers, brush, breed papers, medicine, vet records, and a new future with an animal that perceives their carpet, their shoes, their pants' legs, basically the world as something that belongs not just in its mouth but also embedded firmly in its teeth.

Was I sad? I went through the sadness this past month. I kept going back and forth: I love this puppy; I hate this puppy. I love this puppy; I hate this puppy. He wouldn't listen at all. He wouldn't look me in the eye when I held him. And the word "when" in that statement is pertinent. The little thing cried and wriggled and tried desperately to escape almost every time I did try to hold and cuddle him. If he wasn't sleepy, he wasn't having any part of being in momma's arms. I wanted a sweet, cuddly, adorable puppy, not a rambunctious, wild child that would haul off and bite me without a moment's notice. Mind you, he bit the trainer in front of me, enough for her to say, "Owwww!!!" and look for the puncture marks, and he also stole a chew stick from a 100+ pound chow mix that he had bullied constantly the whole three days he was there. My mother had come over to visit the little creature as well, and with a background in training German shepards, said no way was this the dog for me and no way was this dog doing just "puppy things." She agreed with me: he had this evil look in his eyes that said, "Ohhh...you told me not to do that; okay, I willll do it!" Little stinker!!

So, I'm going to take my time now and really search and hunt for a puppy, and it might be a few months before I introduce another wriggling ball of fur that barks, pees, and chews into my home again. It'll teach me not to buy the first dog I see. I wonder if that goes for men too? Lol!! Just kidding, guys! Y'all aren't for sale...just for dating...lol!

Anyway, I'm amazed at how much this has freed up my time. I wonder who was actually wearing the leash: the dog or me?

And on that note (and with the new gothic pictures out there), I will leave you tonight. I'll be back. I promise! I always am!

Jodi :)