A Puppy Turns Two

Peat came into our lives when he was seven weeks old. Today he turned two years. Two is the magic number they say when a puppy makes the transition from being a little feral in our case into something more tame. The first year, we didn’t know if we could survive his inquisitiveness and curiosity of our world.

The day we chose him as ours

He’s been obsessed with things in his mouth since the day we brought him home. He’s especially fond of wood, fabric, plastic, and paper. An incredible upland bird retriever by nature he gets his daily practice by getting his mouth on anything possible and taking it outside through the dog door. A visiting guest’s boxer shorts, an entire pan of brownies, at least six pairs of reading glasses, two pairs of expensive prescription ones, a couple of pot holders, fridge magnets, throw rugs, the list unfortunately goes on. I can’t blame him entirely; we humans put those things in places that were hard for him to resist.

The day we brought him home

He’s not what we call a “gentle lover.” He wants to give you affection and licks with the same intensity as when he bursts full speed into the kitchen through the dog door before proceeding to run hot laps around the living room couch and dining room table while growling fiercely like a wild dog.  Sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop and our older dog goes into hiding. He likes to play more than anything and can entertain himself by spinning circles while chasing his own stubby, docked tail.

He sleeps on the bed with us at night and presses his little furry body against ours as hard as he can. I call him my little sweet pea. He’s like a pea in the pod when he pushes up against your stomach or the back of your knees. This winter, during one of my sleepless nights I heard him say, “I’m cold.” I’m serious. Bob told me that I was dreaming when I told him about it the next morning. Can this little dog be a reincarnation of a human? I often think about this when he stares at me with his almost human eyes or makes noises while in his crate on car rides. The whining noises he makes almost sound like baby talk.

At two months, I started taking photos of Peat on the second day of every month at the same spot in front of the yellow woodshed door. At age one, for no reason, I stopped documenting his growth. Peat really hasn’t changed a lot in the past year in size except a little more muscular and thankfully a little more civilized. We promised that he would be our last puppy. Some of you know what I’m talking about; it’s a lot of work raising a dog from a very young age. It takes patience and you will go through every spectrum of emotion along the way.

We love this sweet little orange roan creature and look forward to many more years with him being part of our family.

Aged two months
Aged three months
Aged four months
Aged five months
Aged six months
Aged seven months
Aged eight months
Aged nine months
Aged ten months
Aged 11 months
Aged twelve months
Peat today on his second birthday


  1. Our Brittany “Nutmeg” is now 13 years old. At age 3 or so, she chewed up one of my good expensive leather dress shoes, but rolled her brown eyes at me, perkily raised her ears and thus survived. She is much calmer now, likes to nap in the sun, but daily still has a “Brittany Fit” tearing around the house for about 2 minutes at full gallop and then plops onto her spot on the sofa. Fun dogs.

    1. Mark, I appreciate you reading my blog and commenting. I like that term “Brittany Fit.” It’s true! Nutmeg sounds like a wonderful pet and a typical Brittany. Regards, Leslie

  2. Great story. Wish I would have documented Anie’s life the way you did with the yellow door. He appears to be a keeper at last!

    1. He’s still a pain. If he was a human child, he’d probably be diagnosed Autistic. Just like children, dogs as you know are all different with different personalities. We love them all the same. Anie was a super sweet girl, I enjoyed my very short special time with her. Thanks for commenting. Leslie

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