Last week you met Taffy, the latest member of my furry family. So now I’d like to tell you what life has been like lately. Now don’t get me wrong; what I’m about to say doesn’t imply I regret my decision to adopt that little monkey. She is both a treasure and a challenge.

Let’s start with the challenging part, shall we? This will give you an idea as to how I spend a good portion of my time at home with Taffy. Picture the two of us standing in the rain in the backyard. It’s 7 a.m. and Taffy is staring up at me, quizzically, while I repeatedly say, “Go potty, Taffy. Go potty.” That scenario is quickly followed by more expressions of total confusion.

What exactly are you asking of me?!

If Taffy is confused, so am I. You see, her bio said “house-trained.” Maybe that means different things to different people. To Taffy’s previous guardians, it apparently meant trained to pee in the house on a pee pad when she feels like it. Or not.Maybe Taffy’s guardians kept her confined during the day. Maybe they weren’t home much. Either way, I reap the benefits. Taffy and I spend tons of time in the backyard with me pleading, “Go poop, Taffy. Go pee.” Eventually I surrender and we head inside. She immediately does both on the pad, whereupon I ask her,

I tell ya, that dog has a hollow leg. She can hold her pee inside that little body for 24 hours. How is that possible? But when it finally emerges, it’s big time. Taffy often telegraphs (by spinning like a top) that something is about to come out of her. This is my cue to scoop her up and into the yard. She’s catching on, as sometimes now she actually does her business outside. Yippee. Hallelujah. Praise the Lord.

See the evidence behind her?

But here’s the thing — when Taffy does go, she stares at it, dumbfounded, like she doesn’t know what just happened. She smells it, circles it, then smells it again. I try to make a big deal, clapping and exclaiming, “Good girl Taffy! Let’s go get a treat!” That’s when she gives me the quizzical look again, as if to say, “What’s all the excitement about?”

Let’s move on to her energy, shall we? Here’s some advice: when you adopt a dog who seems sweet and mellow, just know there’s a good chance she’s sweet. But mellow? Probably a fake-out so you’ll adopt her. In Taffy’s case, once she knew she had my heart, she exposed a new side of herself: a furry little tornado sweeping though the house.

Who, me?

Taffy is pure joy with a sizable helping of exhilaration. Wally knows this best because he’s the brunt of her exuberance. They wrestle every morning but when Wally’s done, Taffy’s just getting started. My latest mantra to her is, “Taffy, leave Wally alone!” And yes, it falls on deaf ears.

We’ve yet to touch on much of the good stuff about Taffy — what makes her a treasure. But that’s for another time. I’m just getting to know her, so I guess you’ll be knowing her soon too. We’ll take this journey together. Uh oh, gotta go…now she’s humping Wally. “Taffy, leave Wally alone!”

Never a dull moment around here…just as I like it.

A treasure and a challenge