We have all been wanting another Boxer for a long time, but the move (and pure fear) had held us up.  Our next-door neighbors have three dogs and it was actually Rosie’s longing at the fence that sent us in search of a new dog.

As with all older siblings, we are telling her that we brought Dexter into our family for her.  She is skeptical, but tolerant.

He’s a pain, of course, as all puppies are pains, but also adorable, as all puppies are adorable.  He’s all the things that Mr. Blandings remembered as “not that bad.”  Up early.  Chewy.  Unhousebroken.  An added bonus is his kicking his bowl around the kitchen when it is empty and he feels it shouldn’t be.  And he’s incredibly soft, pounces on blowing leaves and sleeps under my chair when I’m working.

The inside of his ears are like the palest pink satin and his coat is the silk tiger velvet that I will never have.  The youngest named him after the Dexter of Dexter’s Laboratory and not the mild-mannered serial killer, though he may have qualities of both.  I might have forgotten to mention to Mr. B that his mother weighed sixty pounds and his father eighty, so don’t tell him if you see him.  We will just let that part be a surprise.