There is a new addition to the household, and at a stroke she has doubled the leg count in the flat. Say hello to my leetle friend:

Maisie the dog

Enter Maisie the dog.

We picked her up from Dumfries & Galloway Canine Rescue Centre a couple of weekends ago, having made the trip a week previously to meet some of the centre’s residents*. Ash’s first choice — Leo, a rottweiler/German shepherd mix of distinctly Satanic aspect — was, tragically, already reserved, and so we were introduced instead to a ten-month-old puppy named Zara. She was the (half-scale) spitting image of Ash’s dog Reuben, rescued as a puppy from Dahab on the Sinai peninsula, and I think that worked rather strongly in her favour.

We took Zara for a walk up and down the driveway to the centre, and threw a ball around for her in the paddock out front.

“We’ll take her,” we told them when we came back. How could we resist?

We spent the following week convincing ourselves that we could make enough time for her, and that we had enough dog-loving, work-shy friends† to help us out with taking care of her during the day. Having never owned a dog before, I was wracked with doubts, but Ash reassured me that everything would be fine so long as we changed her ridiculous name.

“Laika,” I said immediately. “She has to be Laika”.

So, Ash we named her Maisie. Aliases thus far include “May-Z” and “Willy Mays”. Further suggestions are welcome.

She seems to have settled in pretty well; she’s a relatively easy-going sort and we’ve been lucky enough to have had plenty of time to keep her busy and get used to her new environment. Devon and Jen have both been great, taking care of her on those weekdays when we’ve been unable to massage our flexi-time hours into some sort of useful form, and in fact just about all of our friends have been instrumental in keeping her occupied and getting her socialised with unfamiliar people.

We’ve managed to teach her to sit and stay more or less on command, although thus far it does rely on being visibly in possession of something she really, really wants — a tennis ball from which she can strip the fur, a stick from which she can strip the bark, or a treat which she can grind up, drop on the floor and then hoover up — and we’re working on some more tricks like “come”, “heel” and “hammer time”.

I am officially now a Dog Person.

* The journey down to the centre is great — winding, tree-lined A-roads and then a thoroughly alpine cliffhanger of a drive skirting the Devil’s Beef Tub near Moffat.

† I kid, I kid.