So Em and Richard are fostering five 7-week-old dachshund-mix pups, and are out of town overnight. We're baby sitting. They're installed in a pen near the wood stove, except when I pull one out and play for a few minutes.
That's Stretch, the tall red one there, with the fluffy one in the foreground. The two brindle ones are the girls. They are all fierce, with needle teeth and needle claws. They eat, they poop, they growl and wrestle, they sleep. We don't turn them loose, because Annie is way too excited about them and might eat them. Plus, they poop. A lot.
I held all five while C. changed the bottom of the pen. They were like eels, or monkeys. My face is scratched, my glasses licked, my lip bitten (not hard). I lost one temporarily down the side of the chair. They were on their best behavior, though – there was no pooping.
