It's like a Tiny Crack-Head has Taken Over my Livingroom

Meet Iggy (click for more pics), 6 weeks old and too cute to strangle.

Other than a rather inappropriate puppy-penis-related joke from the vet, h\is first trip to the vet went really well.

The guess that he was 6 weeks old seems to be right and he weighs 4.5 pounds.  Just large enough to make a humongous mess...

We've been saying for years that we can't get another dog (well, other people have been saying it and I just pouted) but after hearing this little bundle of dorkiness' story, I couldn't resist.  I only have a couple different takes from a couple different people who were there so I am not at all responsible for the possible complete inaccuracy of his sad story with a [hopefully] happy ending.  I will say that it definitely involves a group of innocent bystanders going about their work-related business and an asshole with a gun.

About 3 weeks ago at a job site with clients and vendors and the usual desert flora and fauna, a gun-toting fuck-head decided he'd had enough of the stray dogs that were presumably on his property.  Instead of trying to be humane and law-abiding, he decided the fastest and most fucked-up way to deal with the problem would be to shoot the mother and then tie her to the back of his truck and drag her away.  A litter of 6 tiny pups was found and a wonderfully caring coworker just couldn't leave them behind.  I have no idea what will or if anything will happen to the asshole.  I like to think he spontaneously combusted and Satan is shoving pineapples up his ass.

Cooter (8 year old black lab) needed a friend, Pi (evil wrapped in cuteness) needed a bigger army, and I've been wanting a dog of my own for a while; and then along comes Iggy. 

The clincher was this wonderful photo - He is the missing link in the dork-pile that is my life:

Yes that is poop, and no it is not his own.

And altho he seems to be ignoring him fiercely, Conner has already been a bad influence.

 

On another high note - Procrastination has puppy-proofed the front room.  The carpet was older than me and ragged as hell so that went  and left cold but easy to clean concrete floors.  The round concrete forms were left in the corner for 8 months but they make great barriers.  The stack of newspapers for recycling were becoming a teetering tower of fire-hazard but now they come in handy to keep the poop-monster in check.  So, thank you, Last-Minute-Man.  It seems that all your put-off projects have had a purpose after all.