Sweet 16 …

16 weeks that is – not years; and not that sweet at the moment , to be frank.  I’m talking about Millie, who is indeed 16 weeks today, and – right on cue - teething.  She must feel very uncomfortable, poor little thing.  But she’s gnawing everything, and I have to admit that once she starts gnawing me, it’s hard to respond with all sympathy.  Ice cubes help, and carrots from the fridge.  However,  it appears there are times when she is soothed only by ripping newspapers, decimating the cat’s toys and gnawing my fingers. 

She’s making great progress otherwise; and thanks be to everything good, she’s finally got the hang of housetraining.  For several weeks she’s been letting me know after the event, but for the last few days, she’s been letting me know when an accident is about to happen. 

Today, another  milestone: having grown out of her crate, she’s graduated  to boot-and-dog-guard.  She isn’t terribly keen on the idea yet, but after a couple of adventures she’ll probably be fine. It must be more comfortable for her.

The dog guard took some time to fit – far, far longer than the billed 15 minutes.  I hope it proves similarly recalcitrant with regard to deconstruction, particularly deconstruction by puppies.

Today she has also shed her puppy collar for something altogether more adult, and is now sporting a fine, red, reflective collar.

Here’s a photo: taken, not today, but three weeks ago.  We were strolling along West Sands at St Andrews: