Tall Boy celebrated his first homecoming anniversary over the past weekend. We celebrated. He and Mr. Big got poached eggs in their breakfasts, a walk at a different park (in search of the elusive wood duck), and then Tall Boy and I went to the hospital where he was fawned upon and congratulated by about 50 people. It was a good day for him. There's nothing he loves more than spreading the DuddleLove.
A few weeks ago, I saw the instructor from his first obedience class. She shows and breeds goldens, and she ran her hands all over him and was checking him out. She told me that he feels so much better and is in such better condition than he was in his first class (which we started a week after he arrived). I was very pleased. He's never going to be one of those goldens with the big heavy coat; it's not in his genes (which is good, since that's not what they're supposed to look like). But his coat is sleek, his nails have improved, and he's got great muscle tone. He looks like a hunting dog that could spend 8 or 10 hours out in the field. And best of all, he's completely happy being second-in-command to Mr. Big, who now allows him, as First Lieutenant, to investigate all strange noises and unfamiliar passersby. He let Mr. Big steal his toy the other day. They were sleeping belly to belly the other day, their front feet touching. I am so lucky to have found a second dog that Biggie gets along with so well. And who even StripeyCat likes to kiss and rub up against (and he takes it like a gentledog). A peaceable animal kingdom.