Puppy brain, and a moment of quiet joy

Puppy brain is a thing.

At 8 weeks, he still had shots. The shots are spaced out roughly every 3-4 weeks, from the age of roughly 6-8 weeks old until 16 weeks old. He was due for one of his shots, and I had to go to a volunteer vet’s house for it to be administered.

Remember, this was in the middle of the pandemic in late 2020, so “normal” wasn’t a thing. You didn’t go to the vet and sit in a room and let your puppy explore while you talked to the vet. You met outside in the driveway, held you dog while he was poked with a needle, said “thank you” and “good night” and went on your way.

Puppy brain. Forgetfulness. Sudden absentmindedness.

My keys.

My house keys. I had them. In my pocket. Yet they were not in my pocket when I arrived home. I searched everywhere. Between the chairs. In the center console. In the glove box. On the floor of the driver’s side, behind the driver’s side, the passenger side, beind the passenger side. Maybe I didn’t bring them. Maybe they were inside. Nope.

I drop back to the vet’s house, and with a flashlight, finally found them lying on the ground just off the curb.

Puppy brain.

There’s a Reddit thread about it, filled with people sharing their newfound mishaps. It’s rather fascinating how having a puppy rewires your brain. This tiny four-legged created that will never be able to go to college, get a job, and support itself, rewires your brain, and your heart.

I turned around after a series of meetings, and found him napping like this, his little tongue sticking out, his whole body relaxed. A wonderful moment of quiet joy. To this day, I still feel joy when I look at this photo. Tiny Riley, gave me puppy brain, and in the process, rewired and my brain, and my heart. Rewired myself in ways I’m only starting to understand.