Savannah and the holidays

Sweet, darling, adorable, pain in the neck puppy Savannah is going to celebrate her second Christmas if she makes it that long. 

Savannah's first Christmas last year.
We had a small tree up on a table,
which kept it out of her reach.

G and I love Savannah so very much, and she is very lucky that we do. Don't get me wrong, she really isn't a bad dog when compared to say all those bad dog movies. She's just really curious, loves to chew, and doesn't know boundaries very well. We're working on all these things though, so it's a process and she's made improvements since day one.

She can sit, knows when to come when she is called, has been trained to go to her crate and rarely has accidents in the house anymore. Considering that she wasn't house trained and barely knew her name when we got her from the Humane Society, we count these as wins. 

Savannah at a little over one year,
and a good twenty pounds heavier
than last Christmas.

However, she still has her moments that make us want to pull our hair out. For instance, she loves books. Well, she loves to chew the covers and pages off the book I'm trying to read. G found her curled up around one of my paperbacks chewing away the other day. He scolded her and apologized to me for leaving the door to the room open that allowed her access to the book. I just shrugged, happy that it was my book and not a borrowed one and a $4 paperback that was easily replaced with a quick Amazon search.  

But her wanting to chew things not her toys does concern me now that the holidays are here, mainly because we want a big tree this year for Christmas and I don't want her to destroy it. Did I mention Savannah loves to chew sticks? Sigh. 

We're breaking her in semi-slowly. This morning I brought out a stocking to hang above our fireplace. It's one for her that has a bag of dog treats and a toy in it. She's been curious, sniffing around at it and bumping it with her nose. We've told her to leave it and she's been good about walking away. I'm hopeful but not yet optimistic that the tree will survive. Maybe the size will intimidate her. Maybe she will survive to see the New Year. We'll see.