Anna/Elsa the Pugpoo Pikachu

When we traded our cats to my mother in exchange for a new puppy, we didn’t actually bring home any baby dogs.  Puppies cannot leave their mothers for at least 8 weeks, and our new bundle of destruction joy wasn’t old enough.  Until yesterday.  On my mother’s 60th birthday, we arrived for cake, ice cream, and the newest member of our family, whose name has been the subject of quite the debate.

She was originally called Cleo, but I had a dog named Cleo when I was little, and it felt weird to me.  It would be like that one episode of “The Dukes of Hazzard” where Boss Hogg hypnotizes Luke to get rid of the General Lee, but then Luke buys a new car, and wants to paint it orange and glue the doors shut and call it the General Lee II, which makes Bo mad, but luckily Uncle Jesse unhypnotizes Luke and they get the original car back.  Basically, the name Cleo was out.  So then the name Bella was chosen, but I put my foot down.  My kids did not understand why I refused to have an Edward and a Bella in my house, but they will someday.

Eventually, it was decided that the puppy should be named Anna.  Or Elsa.  Or Anna.  Or Elsa.  Edward was still calling her Elsa on the ride home yesterday, but Ruby explained that Anna’s hair color was more similar to the dogs’ hair color than Elsa’s was, so if the puppy were white, then of course we would name it Elsa, but since the puppy is brown, we have to name it Anna.  I suggested we call it Olaf, but I was met with scorn and derision, since that is a boys name.  Olafina was also out.  I wasn’t even taken seriously with Svenina.

So Anna came home with us.  (I hope you are pronouncing it Ahhhhhna.  You don’t want to make Ruby mad.)  Edward has come around, and so our puppy has a name.  Welcome to our home, Anna the Pugpoo Pikachu.

Oh, did I mention that she is a Pugpoo Pikachu?  I know, I know, she looks like a chocolate lab.  It’s true, she does.  But the camera adds tens pounds you know.  This dog is teeeeeeensy!  And she will stay that way.  Part pug.  Part toy poodle.  Part pekingese.  Part chihuahua.  It is like all of the smallest dogs in the world wrapped up in an even smaller package.  This thing will be lucky to hit 12 pounds (Or, for my British readers, 12 euros.).  This dog is fun-sized, and completely portable.  If I were a rich old weird lady, I would put this dog in my purse and go to an upscale mall.

With such a small puppy, and such a low reach, we have successfully puppy-proofed the house, and by house I mean most of the living room.  I fully expect most of the toys in my children’s room (which of course are currently all over the floor, three feet deep in some places) to be eaten up and gone by tomorrow.  This is an excellent way to declutter.  Are you too sentimental to get rid of half your stuff?  Get a puppy and let fate decide!  But we’ll be okay.  There is really only one thing in this house that we cannot let Anna chew up and destroy, and he has made a suit of armor for himself, to defend against puppy attacks.  Wish us luck.