December 29, 2007 — When they weren’t running and wrestling and shuffling in the snow, they were running and wrestling and shuffling in the house. We had to separate them and make them lie down. And if they made eye contact, the epic battle raged on all over again. This is a rare moment: the two of them, in one place, touching, and not engaged in hound-to-hound combat:
When they weren’t rolling around on each other, snorting like little bulls and knocking down knick-knacks with the swoosh of a mighty tail, they were busy starting their own quality assurance business: Tai & Truman’s Toy Testing (“You Make ‘Em, We’ll Break ‘Em!”). The end of our trip saw us packing a bag full of alleged indestructibles, in various states of disrepair, dysfunction, or disembowelment. The braided-fleece tug toy may be the only thing they were unable to vanquish (though in his defense, Truman did prove most adept at pulling out individual strands, which I think shows some excellent fine motor skills).
He was as good a passenger on the way home as on the way there, though there was an unfortunate incident in freezing wind-whipped Mojave, where the gales were such that he basically peed on his own legs. Neither of us was particularly thrilled about that.
We got home just fine on the 30th, and I sent him for a puppysitting visit to play with his sister on New Year’s Eve.
There is, apparently, a magic combination of factors involved in making Truman tired beyond a one-day stretch. I believe we have finally stumbled upon this combination:
3 days in Mammoth with brother Tai + 1 overnight stay at sister Tia’s house = 2.5 days of sleepy, sleepy Truman
I have never seen him so motionless. I had to keep checking to see if he was breathing.