My little pup.
Pup will be a year old next month. How did the year pass so quickly?
At nearly 11 months old, he’s my sweet, resilient, persistent little guy.
He can be completely distraught, screaming and crying, but as soon as I hold him, all is well. He’ll snuggle his head into me, gasping for composure and wiggling with gladness.
He shakes and bounces his little booty so hard while he’s dancing to music. He especially loves the keyboard we set up for him and Cub to play with. Once the music is rockin’, so is Pup.
He loves my dad. He makes a beeline for him whenever he sees him, he wants only to be held by him, he jumps up and down when he catches a glimpse of him. My dad was worried that he wouldn’t develop as strong a bond with Pup as he did with Cub, but Pup is insistent on having grandpa time. And so their bond grows each week.
He’s fascinated by people. Such a little guy but so much interest in people, their interactions, and their quirks.
He’s vocal. Much more vocal than Cub was at that age. Cub was an observer, but Pup is more headlong. JE and Cub will sometimes make screeching sounds together and say things like, “How DARE you?!” and laugh together. Recently, Pup started to imitate their sounds. He adds so much joy to our wee family.
I’ll have to start thinking about sleep-training him at night, weaning him, and having him room-share with Cub in the months to come, but for now … I’m content to let him be a baby as long as he wants. He may still wake me once or twice in the middle of the night, but to feel his warm little body against mine while he nurses and his little hand stroking my face and arm (and reaching back to pat JE while he sleeps, too) … ah, it won’t last much longer. He’ll grow up too soon, too fast. I’m cherishing these last days with him as a baby.