Three Days With Wishmaker

On Dec 22nd we loaded our 3 pups in the van and went to collect number four. We’re calling him Monkey but his Kennel Club name is “Wishmaker”. If Poppy had any say in the matter I think she’d call him “Wish Granter” because he’s the best Christmas present we could possibly have given her.

Monkey and Poppy snuggling up on Susan’s lap

Poppy gets on great with Beanie; they often go out on rounds of the garden together, and snooze together when we let them into our bed on a morning. Her relationship with Biggles is still developing; he behaves protectively towards her and he loves running alongside her on lead during walks, but in the house he pretty much just wants her to leave him alone, which most of the time is exactly what she does.

Now closing in on 6 months old, we both feel she’s been increasingly desperate for a play session with another pup. Now, thanks to Monkey, that’s happened.

She’s still going to have to wait a little while before Monkey’s ready to join in the high energy antics that Poppy craves, but he’s growing in strength and confidence very rapidly. On the day we brought him home he was very sleepy, very unsure of himself and not very steady on his feet. In just two days he’s become a fearless explorer, scampering round the upper part of the garden. He’s worked out how to negotiate doors that open outwards and has even clambered up the steps up to the patio – both skills that Poppy took a week to acquire.

He has however demonstrated a few little quirks that lead me to believe that Monkey will turn out to be a fitting name for him. For one thing, he had some strange ideas about drinking water; for the first two days he was happy to drink from the same bowl he eats from and from puddles, but he treated regular water bowls with the utmost suspicion. I repeatedly introduced him to our dedicated water bowls, but he stubbornly refused to drink from them, crying to be let into the patio so that he could slurp from the puddles there.

He also had an issue with pooing; apparently there was an unwritten law forbidding the depositing of poos on grass. He would circle round and round in the lawn, whimpering in desperation, but only when I relented and carried him back into the kitchen would he finally relieve his bowls. I only got him over that one when I remembered that the floor outside the breeder’s kennel was concrete. I took him down to our slabbed patio – the nearest thing to concrete that we have – and hung out with him, refusing to take him back inside until the deed was done. It was touch and go for a while; it was cold, windy and wet, and as much as I wanted him to overcome his poo demons, I didn’t want him to catch a chill. I started cheerleading him to hurry things along: “Go on Monkey, just drop your furry pants and let rip! You can do it little boy!” When he finally did the deed I celebrated quite loudly, and then a few noises from the garden next door told me that our neighbours had heard the whole thing. This didn’t bother me particularly; after living next to us for twelve years they should already know that we’re weird.

One other thing that we haven’t addressed yet: he’s an incorrigible nipple nibbler. Poppy would nibble fingers and arms, but other body parts were mostly safe. Monkey on the other hand will puncture digits if his grip slips while gnawing on a toy, but it’s the nipples that he really wants. I guess he didn’t get that big by being at the back of the queue when it was time for his mum’s milk!

These minor quirks aside, things are going very well. Poppy is over the moon with her little brother, while Beanie and Biggles already seem to have accepted him. I’ll end the update now with just a few more shots of Monkey, Poppy and the gang.

It’s noisy enough with three Beaglets; how bad is it going to be with four?!!!