First, Bertie's bio: She's about 3 years old, weighs 12 pounds, and, no, I have no idea what breeds she is. The most reasonable theory is probably some kind of pug/border terrier mix. What I do know is that she is a Pure-Bred Awesome. (And possibly part mountain goat.) Update: Someone on Facebook says she's a Brussels Griffon. I still say Mountain Goat.
Bertie was picked up as a very-pregnant stray and taken to the Animal Shelter. She was going to be euthanized because of aggression, but PALS got her out and, lo and behold, she is really a very nice dog. If you were uncomfortably pregnant and stuck in a scary kennel, you'd be aggressive, too! She had her puppy a week after she left the shelter, spent 8 weeks nursing him and generally being an awesome momma, and then they went their separate ways. As far as I know, Bert's puppy, Little Guy, is still available for adoption as of this writing. He's about 11 weeks in this picture, but is now 13 weeks. Update: My grandpuppy, Little Guy, went to his forever home in late March! Yay, Little Guy! We send you all our love!
Why did I name her "Bertie Sue," you ask? Well, have you ever seen a mane of fur more likely to make Albert Einstein's hair stand on end? And "Sue" is an homage to Bertie's awesome Foster Momma, who has the habit of tacking "Sue," among other things, onto all of her dogs' names. For example, I look forward to one day meeting Chihuahua-Extraordinaire PeteySueBobElvis. And anyway, I figure, if the Sue fits, wear it. (Yep. I said it. Deal with it.)
"Now, wait a minute," I hear you saying. "You just wrote a whole series of blog posts about how you had to take Brewster to a reactive dog class because he's so fearful. How can you bring another dog into the house?" It was because of that class that I had the confidence to adopt Bertie. Working with the trainers, and especially with the trainer's dog, Gracie, helped me learn how to introduce Brewster to a new dog slowly and carefully. Brewster and I met with Bertie (formerly Cricket) and her Foster Mom twice in a neutral location (a pet supply shop). They got to check each other out without a lot of pressure. When Foster Mom brought Bert for a home visit, they parked in a church parking lot two blocks from my house and Brewster and I walked up and met them. The dogs got to see each other again, then we all drove home and walked into the house together. Once he realized that Bertie was the same dog he'd met twice before, Brewster never once showed any aggression. In fact he "approved" the adoption by giving Bertie a play-bow, the international doggy symbol for "Let's play!" I had never seen Brewster do that before, and it was all I needed to see to know that he would love having a sister. In the 24 hours that Bertie has been here, Brew has yet to show her any aggression. That doesn't mean there won't be any spats whatsoever, and it will be several days or even weeks before I go off and leave them alone without a baby gate between them, but so far it's looking very, very good.
Does that answer all your questions? Then without further ado, Bertie's first day with us:
Far be it from me to anthropomorphize my dogs or force them into nonsensical gender roles. But Bert did recognize right away that the pink bed was meant for her. It brings out her eyes, no?
Maddie came over to help us watch the KU-Mizzou game. To get into this club, you have to be a PALS dog.
To make up for having to live with another dog, Edgar gets some of the good MommaLady luvies, which are widely recognized as the best of all the luvies. Kudra, on the other hand, is still downstairs. I expect we'll see her in about another 24 hours. (Why the look of bored disgust on the MommaLady's face? This photo was taken toward the end of the first half. She was more cheerful an hour later.)
That's it! As I assured my horrified neighbor, there are now four pets living in this house, and we are taking down the vacancy sign. It will be a long, long time before anymore four-legged people cross our threshold. Probably.