He's pretty friggin' cute.
(It's hard taking pictures of black dogs with a flash... especially when they are three months old and have no attention span. Still trying to get my bearings with the new camera.)
Otto came into our lives a few weeks ago.
Thomas went to pick up Moby at PetSmart after a grooming. We mostly take him here because he hates getting his nails trimmed. After one ill-fated trimming I did, it's worth $24.99 to have someone else do it (and wash, brush, clean his anal glands, clean his ears, file his paws, and dry him). So Thomas picked up Moby and as they were walking by the in-house vet, the nurses said, hey! We have this little puppy that looks exactly like your dog.
I'm in the shower when Thomas burst in, flinging open the curtain, and announces that he wants a dog. Kind of. He explains that Otto was left at the vet, abandoned there with terrible stomach worms. That was weeks ago. The owners never came to pick him up and haven't returned any calls. He was left with the name Blackie (seriously? how creative.) and everyone at the office has pretty much fallen in love with this little one. The stomach worms are gone. If someone doesn't claim him, they have to take him to the Dorchester SPCA (where we got Moby). Sad.
The whole time Thomas is telling me, his eyes are going "Can we keep him? Can we keep him please?"
"So you want a puppy?"
"Will you at least go see him tomorrow? He looks just like what Moby would have looked like as a puppy."
So off we went. This little, black pup that was all ears, fur, tail, and GIANT webbed paws careened around the corner. And my heart melted. I was gone. He was so cute. He leapt into my arms and I just smiled and loved him.
I looked at Thomas and he looked at me, all gooney eyed. He said that Moby and "Blackie" just hit it off immediately. Both doing that weird talking thing Moby does this yelping, whistling, and... talking.
After reluctantly returning him, Thomas and I set off towards home. And we talked about "Blackie."
First off, the name had to go. We always joked that if we ever found a second black German Shorthaired Pointer, we'd name him Otto. A nice German name. :) We talked about finances, what we'd need to buy, cost of keeping a dog, the fact that we knew nothing about him. But then we talked about his situation. We didn't want him going to the shelter. We got Moby there. As awesome as places like the SPCA are, they don't need another dog. And we could love him, train him, and take care of him forever. We realize that any hesitation we had could be taken care of. We could do this.
So we called the vet and said if they didn't find the owners, we would take him.
After 3 weeks of phone calls and waiting for a response from the previous owners, Tuesday we finally got the call that it had been the appropriate amount of time (they didn't want to get into a lawsuit of giving away someone else's dog) and all attempt to contact the owners had failed. And so Otto came into our lives.
We are so lucky. Otto loves being here and fits in well. He plays a lot with big bro Moby (who adores goofing off with him too).
This is mostly what our day looks like. Otto realizes that the only way to attain the high ground on Moby is to stand on the edge of the couch and leap onto Moby's back. See below. Thankfully that kind of workout tuckers them out well and they sleep soundly. They can be crazy, but crate training is wonderful and a huge help to everyone. They sleep and I don't have to referee dog fighting.
And yes, we're stopping at two.