Last week was Mother’s Day. It was lovely. The grandkids spent hours in the pool.  Our daughter, Cindy, cooked the burgers on the barbecue grill.  The pool was a big worry when the kids were little, but now they’re at home in the water, and their parents have graduated out of the pool and can sit on the sidelines watching. But I was back in the watching and worrying stage because, three days earlier, we had taken a big step back into the world of parenthood.

I know there are people our age who take on the raising of grandchildren when broken sons and daughters are unable to care for their little ones. They step up and do what has to be done. All I can say is “Hats off!” to them. But our baby adventure is into a voluntary kind of parenthood—we have a new puppy. She’s a nine-week-old dappled, chocolate and caramel, piebald, long-haired miniature dachshund.  Whoa.  That’s a mouthful! At this very moment, she’s sleeping on the back cushion of my writing chair, just behind my shoulder like a very warm neck wrap. When she wakes up and gets restless, I know that’s when it will be time to take her out to “get busy.” (Euphemism there!) Because that’s what it takes to house break a puppy—24/7 eternal vigilance.

Our new baby, Johanna. Aka JoJo, aka Puppy.

Her name is JoJo, although most of the time I find myself calling her Puppy. As for her name? Our family has a tradition of naming pets after either electronics engineers (Nikki and Tess were named after Nikolai Tesla) or authors (Aggie and Daph were named after Agatha Christie and Daphne DuMaurier.) I suppose I could lie and say that Bella was named after Alexander Graham Bell, but here’s what happened. On a rainy October day going on five years ago now my daughter, grandson, and I found an abandoned miniature longhaired doxie on the street. That afternoon, when we came into the house Colt was explaining how we’d found this “poor little fella” on the street. Grandpa allowed as how “Fella” was a boy’s name and this was a girl dog.  “Okay,” Colt said. “We’ll call her Bella.” And Bella she is.

But Bella is older now. We thought that a puppy would be good for us and good for her, and now that we’ve come to love one long little doggie, it seemed like another was in order. As for JoJo’s name? She’s named after Johanna Spyri, the author of Heidi.

So our house has had to be puppy proofed this week. There are now barriers that separate the family room and kitchen from the rest of the house. We have an indoor fiber-glass play-yard that takes up a big chunk of floorspace. When she’s locked up in there, her piteous cries are astonishingly loud when you realize they come from such a tiny creature. (Bella is 11 pounds, and she now looks huge by comparison.) Another outdoor play-yard is due to be delivered this afternoon. That one is for outside.  Because when we’re out walking in the yard, we now have a new baby, a fearless one, who has no concept of water or swimming pools or fish ponds for that matter.

When we’re out in the dog run, JoJo may be long of body but not of attention span. She chews moss, eats pine needles, finds pine cones, and generally does everything but what she’s supposed to do. Consistency and patience are what the puppy-care book says are required. Yesterday and today we had NO indoor issues, so I think we’re making progress on that topic.

When it’s time to go to bed and JoJo is locked in “puppy control,” she is not happy. But here’s the wonderful thing. We have a long house. Our bedroom is at the far end. We close the door. We take out our hearing aids. We turn on our fans. We hear NOTHING!

What’s Bella’s reaction? Mostly, she is NOT amused. Colt explained to her that if she was no longer a princess, that means she has been promoted to queen, but I don’t think she quite got the gist of that explanation. Right now, Bella’s best bet is to take to higher ground when JoJo gets to be too much of a good thing. I don’t know how long Bella’s furniture puppy-free zone will last because JoJo has already learned to negotiate steps. (She has to get a running start.) And on her second day here, when I attempted to shut her in the dog run while I was bringing groceries in from the garage, she made the doggie door work. After all, if Bella could go through that thing, so could she. I came in from the garage and was astonished to find her in the laundry room.

JoJo doesn’t know it yet, but she’s a lucky little tyke. She’s come to a place where her Humans will be at home most of the time.  She’ll have a doggie companion. I knew from having witnessed a couple of nice nose licks between them that eventually, when JoJo isn’t quite such an obnoxious puppy, that she and Bella will be friends.  

No doubt readers of this column will have to endure periodic puppy reports, but that’s what this blog is—a window on my world—and right now, my world has shrunk to the size of that tiny paw that’s poking me in the back of the neck and saying maybe it’s time to go outside.

But speaking of animals I have a couple more things to mention. The tennis ball shooter was a no-go, so now I have a machine gun style Nerf gun that, when properly aimed, can reach from the back porch all the way to the fishpond. The ammo whistles as it goes.  I’ve only seen the heron once since I weaponized the back porch, but here’s my other Mother’s Day present. Guess what?  The Big Guy lives. I saw him for the first time in MONTHS on Saturday evening.  

And as to Bella, the amazing Book Tour Dog? The score so far this spring is Bella: 2/ Moles: 0.

Yup, it’s definitely time for all of us to go “get busy.”