Our little pup is doing great. He’s seriously the cutest thing ever and adds a new dimension of fun to our home. Recently a friend asked how we’re doing with the dog—and I told her that the dog is far easier than the child! He doesn’t talk back. We can put him in his kennel when he has a potty accident or the when the chaos is getting to me. We don’t have to worry about whether he gets enough fruits and vegetables each day. Etc, etc.

I don’t know if all Cotons are like Shiloh—surely some in his breed aren’t as delightful as he is—but overall, this little pooch is remarkably easy-going. He is quick to learn and is doing really well with potty-training. He likes to be part of the “pack” and will either sleep or work on a chew toy right by our feet. He’s not a lap dog, but being close to our legs satisfies him. He loves people, so much so that I have to keep him away from joggers and school kids so he doesn’t go home with them. Still in the puppy stage, Shiloh definitely nips with us a lot. But even then, we find that he responds well to a sharp “No!” The hardest thing is training Livia to understand that a playing puppy means a biting puppy. Liv moves quickly from playing hard with him (wrestling, she calls it) to shrieking in pain from a particularly sharp chomp. It seems like we have to separate them like a parent would any two children. “You, on the couch! You, in the kennel!” Okay, so it’s not really like two children.

At a doctor’s appointment yesterday, Liv was asked if she had any brothers or sisters. (My not-so-favorite line of questioning, as I recently shared.) She said, “I have a baby dog. A baby BROTHER dog!” I had to smile.