young dog, new tricks

Cathie commented on Thursday's garbage essay that a regular member of the Mexpatriate cast was mentioned in the post, but only photographs of trash appeared -- and none of Barco.

It was a point well-taken.  I have attempted to avoid turning these pages into a baby book for my little dog guy.  However, I cannot avoid mentioning him now and then.  After all, he easily eats up most of my day -- along with anything else he can get his mouth around.

But a couple of photographs are in order.  In the month he has lived in the house with no name, he has been sprouting from a puppy into a dog.

I took him to the veterinarian this weekend for a vaccination.  In two weeks he has gained more than two kilograms -- almost five pounds.  He is now 13 kilograms.  He is pushing 30 pounds.  With ever-lengthening legs.

And he puts that weight to good advantage when he goes crackers each morning and evening.  That mouth of his could find good service in a sawmill.  My arms bear proof.  I told him he needs to stop biting me or I will humiliate both of us by saying I own a cat.

There is a sports park two blocks from the house.  We visit it three times a day.  I was under the impression we visited there to take care of nature's call.

Barco thinks nature's call is hunting down every sentient being smaller than a golden retriever puppy and reducing it to lunch.  That includes rodents that have long ago made their way to the hereafter.

And we have found a great new diversion -- the beach.  The sand and surf turn Barco into Mr Crazy Dog, but Mr. Crazy Dog with charm.

So, there you have it.  A few photographs.  A bit of commentary.

That will hold us all for a bit.