Dax is now 13 weeks old and weighs 24 lbs. A tiny brute.
Very scary. A furry dynamo.
Long hikes in the morning.
And longer ones at night.
And still he possesses enough energy to play with Pete for HOURS!
When not harassing Pete, he's decimating my lotus ponds.
He'll find trouble, no matter where it hides. It boggles my mind to think of ways to keep him alive through puppyhood. The challenges are daily.
Like when I watched him jump in a creek and end up two feet from a very large venomous cottonmouth. Good thing I was only 5 feet away and had my .45 on me.
On the bright side, we now know Dax isn't gun shy.
In spite of pouring over gun dog training books, his recall still sucks. He'd rather do his own thing than come back to me.
Plan B: take more money out of my savings to turn my 2 acre yard into a fortress.
Therefore, if something does happen to him it will be an act of God, or Garrett.
Garrett still hasn't warmed up to him, and who can blame him!!!
They do love to run the trails together though, there is hope they can get along... one day.
Meanwhile, he's learning how to be a quiet and respectful farm dog. Much gratitude to the two older dogs he's emulating.
We've even begun practicing our canine citizenship skills in town.
He was quite the star at Auburn University Large Animal Clinic.
One day... I'll have a fine working trio again, with the spirit of Cole guiding us.
Dax's pedigree papers came in last week. Guess who's more closely related to my late soul mate than I had imagined? A part of Cole will always live on, but I now know that the little head I kiss every day is almost a mirror image of DNA.
We are a family.