Today I meet Hunter Sync Or Swym At Dragonair for the first time. She’s one of a large herd of Portuguese Water Dog puppies – 13 puppies! There are 10 girls, 3 blacks and 7 browns. I won’t pick a puppy on colour, but I’d really like a little more white than I had on my first 2 Porties, if possible, and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that if “my” puppy is brown, that’s OK. Actually I’ve come past that to the point where I’m hoping for a brown. I’m also hoping for the brown bitch with the most white that Elaine (the breeder) tells me was the first one out of the whelping box and the one who spends the most time beating up her brothers and sisters, but I’m planning on making a reasoned, informed decision. Like I did last time. Right.
They had their first shots a couple of days before I arrived and the pup I’m most interested in isn’t feeling well today. Everyone else is playing and wrestling and she does too, but just for a minute and then she goes to lie down. Even so, she’s watching me all the time I’m in the room. Her eyes are still blue, changing slightly to dark yellow around the outside of the irises. And always she’s staring at me. The pups are all friendly, outgoing, unconcerned about anything. They have a big play/living pen with a little slide, tunnels, toys and a crate, and an adjacent potty pen which they’re all using. Frequently Elaine opens the pen door and, like a brown and black flash flood, they all flow outside to romp and roll and wrestle and pee and poop in the outside pen. Binky stares at me.
After 10 minutes I say “OK, let’s all stop pretending I’m going to be reasonable about this. THIS is Syn!”
We cuddle on my bed until I’m ready to go to sleep, then she goes back in the pen with the herd. Stitch wants to play with her but isn’t sure how. She jumps at her a little too fast and scares the baby. She weighs 7 pounds.
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Today we temperament test 13 (!) puppies. My husband Ron always says “You left my puppy there and got YOUR puppy again, didn’t you?!” when I come home with a new pup. *I* want the evil pup, the over-the-top pup, the one who growls and tries to eat my shoe and bites my fingers too hard. HE wants the quiet one lying in the corner. Looks like today he gets his wish. Instead of following the tester, Syn follows watches her walk. She watches the ball roll away from her and then lies down. She blinks when we bang a pot with a spoon, then yawns and lies down on the tester’s foot. Everyone watching is laughing at the dismay on my face, but I trust the breeder’s reports of her. Still, the other pups are retrieving and shaking pant legs. Sigh. I can’t take this pup if she’s not the right pup. I WANT this pup. I won’t take her if she doesn’t wake up.