This morning Rosey and I took the dog to the vet office for a checkup. He's usually the biggest dog there (another of my many talents is to invariably book him when the waiting room is filled with small fluffy dogs that crouch in fear and pee when he comes into the room) and quite often the stupidest - the puppy in him makes him a whining drooling mess and the way everyone in the room is gawkingly afraid he's going to savage poor twee Bitsy or Noodles makes him hyper.
The vet, though, was soothingly friendly as Jasper wound his leash around her legs and tried to beat her into submission with his tail. "He's healing well" she said as he did the happy dance and piddled a little. "I guess you've forgiven me, hey, boy?"
(The last time she saw Jas he was briefly still a he. If you get my meaning.)
Jasper gazed up at her with love bursting from his deep brown eyes and whammed his head into the crotch of her pants. Ooofing a little, she made him sit and gave him a biscuit, then gave his leash back to me. "Okay! Everything looks great. Do you have any interest in taking him to obedience class? We're starting one soon."
"Don't we have to wait until he's full-grown?" I asked her as she oofed again and danced away from the dog.
Her eyes got really big. "Full-grown? Hon, you do realize he's going to be a moose, don't you?
I really think it might be better if you had more...ahh, control over him before he's bigger than the kids."
BIGGER THAN THE KIDS. I now have a medical opinion that the Jabberwocky is going to be the BIGGEST DOG ALIVE.
And now we're back, and the Beast is sooo happy to not have tickly bits of string on his person that he's goofy-eyed and foolish with affection.
I wonder if I could buy a pony-cart? Or a sleigh. Or maybe he could just carry the children on his back. Either way, I have to find him a job to do.