Sansa got here on Saturday. She was supposed to come “in the morning,” so I woke up at 1:45am, completely incapable of going back to sleep, and just made coffee and puttered around while everyone else slept. As of 9:01am, I became incensed that she was not here yet, and barely survived until 9:17am, when she arrived at my door. This is Sansa:
I know. It’s a lot to take in.
Sansa is a perfect puppy. She is nine weeks old, and about eleven pounds in size. She is very relaxed, very quiet, very affectionate, very smart (I guess? I don’t really know how you tell), and already possesses a cursory grasp of the English language. I take her outside, and say “go potty!” in a chipper voice, and then she goes potty. The only inside accident so far was my fault, and we were both gently disappointed in ourselves, and it has not been repeated. She enjoys having her belly rubbed, she enjoys sitting on my lap, she enjoys bouncing with the children and also being able to always know we will keep the children from bothering her if she does not wish to bounce with the children. Yesterday, we were on our way to the nursery, and Sansa stopped outside the door and looked dubious, and I said “Sansa, is that just too much right now? Would you like to hang out in your daddy’s office while he works, instead?” and she said “Yes, thank you,” and it was so.
(Steve calls her “sweetums.” He is a taciturn man, but not for Sansa.)
Sansa’s breeder had told me that Sansa (the runt of the litter, likely only to gain ninety more pounds before reaching full maturity, instead of a hundred and ten more pounds) is very firm about her rights to the attention and approval of others, much like myself. Whenever the breeder snuggled with the puppies individually (constantly, as evidenced by the webcam I watched for eight weeks straight, including Sansa’s mom’s entire and graphic labor and delivery), Sansa would refuse to be cuddled until all the other puppies were done, and would then remain on the breeder’s lap for three or four times the amount of time the others received, because no one was left to supplant her on said lap.
Sansa has taken very immediately to having her own people, possibly because living with a writhing mass of nine puppies was not perfectly suited to her own, more dignified nature. “Wait, ALL these dog toys are mine? I need not compete for them?” She was a good girl her first night, an even better girl her second night, and is in ruddy good health, and exudes Chill and Convivality. She is already the best behaved puppy I have ever seen, and we will begin obedience training on Wednesday.
Here are some important illustrated facts about Sansa:
Sansa was initially concerned about my readiness to squeeze her:
Sansa explored the house in some detail, and became convinced we would be good to her:
Sansa relishes not sharing her food with a variety of siblings, and also that I put some shredded cheese on it (I am under strict instructions to gussy up kibble with a bit of Greek yogurt or cheese or drippings or meat if necessary, as Sansa has a lot of growing to do, and she has already eaten at LEAST a chicken without any recognizable digestive issues):
Sansa likes taking her toys under the baby’s bouncer:
Sansa does not approve of adblockers that do not whitelist our site, and she is concerned about the future of new media:
Sansa enjoys selfies:
Sansa was deboned by a master chef, and then re-boned after her nap:
I do not have a lot of still images of an awake Sansa, so here is another sleeping Sansa:
She has a black nose: She has a little chew toy shaped like a bone:
This is Sansa, asleep on my bed:
Thank you for your time.
Nicole is an Editor of The Toast.