{Puppy Grub}

Psycho Puppies

Do you ever have dreams that just blend from one weird event into another and you don’t think it’s at all odd?  Until you wake up.  And then it is obviously far fetched.

Last night, I had one dream that started out at good ole Paradise Ranch, turned into being chased by monsters on alien planet while trying to save my dad’s litter of puppies, then melted into a lovely afternoon of playing with puppies at my parents house.  It all made sense at the time.

Until the end.  The end was weird.

Obviously, I was playing with the puppies like I did when I was a kid.  My parents used to breed our black labs, so about every year we would have a big litter of puppies.  I loved it.  Puppy responsibilities are some of my most vivid memories of my kidhood (what’s with all throwbacks to my childhood?  it’s like I’m getting nostalgic about life….).  I loved it when they were about five to six weeks old.  I would go to a puppy-poop-free-zone (this was not as challenging then, because I was like, two inches shorter when I was twelve than I am now).  Then I would lay down.  And because I was so darn exciting, all the puppies would come jump on top of me.  It was great.  They’d untie your shoes, chew on your jeans, nibble your fingers, gnaw on your nose, and lick you with their cute little puppy tongues.  I loved it.  It was bliss.  *Sigh*

DISCLAIMER: I will not apologize for liking the smell of puppy breath.  Some people like to smell babies heads.   I like puppies.  Babies and their soft little heads freak me out a bit.  I like puppies.

So, while the first two scenes of my dream included me chasing puppies at Paradise Ranch and then trying to save them from monsters (I think some got eaten, but by and large my dad and I saved most of them.  They were vicious aliens) the final scene was magnificent.  Except for the weird part.

I was playing with a litter of puppies at my parents house.  I was playing with them in the yard (read: puppy-poop-free-zone-large-enough-for-an-adult-woman-to-lay-down-in) and they were delightful.  So cute.  Such energy.  Such zest for life.  (Jared just brought me coffee.  I love him.  Not even in my dream.  In real life.)

There were some puppies that looked like this:

Warning: Do not google lab puppies unless you want to melt.  If you’re okay with melting, google on

There was one that sorta looked like this little fella.  Except.  More Lab, less Pointer.  Because it was a dream.  And no such dog exists.



And there was a Basset Hound.  Well, he was a Basset Hound Black Lab of course.  So, in my dream, he had the head and ears of a Basset Hound and body of Black Lab.  He was very disproportional (have you seen the proportions on a Basset Hound?  Maybe it was an improvement).

I guess my dreams know me really well.  I’ve seen a lot of pictures of Basset Hounds from a blog I follow.  Jared and I have talked about getting a German Short Hair Pointer.  Jared and I have talked about a Black Lab.  In my little dream world, for a few minutes, I got to play with all of them.

And in my dream, my parents offered us one.  Immediately.  No waiting for your life to be more stable/a season when you don’t move every four months.  But I was stuck on something.  I asked how they could be pure bred if they were all so… different.  My mother was very pleased to tell me that they had been genetically altered so they could have a little of everything.  Also, they had grafted squirrel DNA that strengthened the outer layer of the umbilical cord.  But they were still “pure bred”.  According to the woman acting as my mother in the dream.  The smooth transition from the ranch to an alien planet didn’t phase me.  But the squirrel DNA umbilical cord bit did.  And the logic that they could still be pure bred and include squirrel DNA.  And pointer.  And basset hound.

Right around this time, I woke up (because in the dream my parents offered me the second choice of the litter, and I wanted first choice, the one my dad had claimed.  He already name it too.  He was a Black Lab, that looked like a Black Lab.  And my dad had named him Levi).  Obviously, I woke up because I was getting gypped.

But have no fear, folks.  I’m going to take this dream as an olive branch to myself.  Someday, perhaps someday, maybe even in the next several months, our lives will be stable enough that we can get a little rascal.  But he won’t be a rascal.  He’ll be a puppy genius.  You just wait and see.


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