Peter and Elizabeth took Josie for a "well-puppy" visit to the vet on Saturday, just to get them acquainted. New Skete recommends doing that, but after week of people saying, "You can't be serious," it was nice to hear the vet confirm that, since the visit happened so early, Josie would imprint it as a positive experience. Good thing, too: tomorrow she'll return for her shots.
The vet also recommended that Josie meet at least ten new people a week for a while: she'll soon become territorial and needs to see the boundaries of that territory as fairly porous. She's met some of the children's friends, some teachers, a bishop, a number of Peter's students, our language club members, and a few neighbors. They've mostly been coming to us: she isn't allowed on land used by other dogs until she's 16 weeks old (she's not fully vaccinated).
One of the first thing people want to know, besides how old she is, is her name. Some ask with some anticipation, as if hoping to hear a clever one. Their faces fall and their voices turn dismissive ("Oh.") when they hear "Josie." Too prosaic? Others say, "Hi, Josie, what a beautiful puppy you are!"
I'm off to England for a week. I doubt Josie'll forget me in that time, but I wonder how much she'll have changed by the time I get back. If she's too territorial by that time, will I make it past her boundaries? Brother Christopher told us of a surgeon who was home so rarely that his shepherd didn't realize that he was part of the family. By the time the puppy was a year old, he would no longer allow him in the house. Perhaps I should leave her one of my old t-shirts as a memento.
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