I’ve said it before and it bears repeating: parenthood isn’t a title, it is a long term process of applied heartbreak. It is an exquisite, beautiful heartbreak, but it provides a necessary lesson in letting go of nostalgia for the sake of the moment.

I say this — and here’s the relevance to the puppy hunt — the evening “nice walk,” a tradition begun when Julia was about two, used to be a chance for Dad and daughter to hang out a bit after dinner and before bath. Taking puppy pictures sprung from that. Of course, now Benny is of “nice walk” age, and it has really affected how we go about our hunts for the puppies of Jenkintown.

Whereas before, we could just meander at Julia’s pace, things have to be a little more destination-oriented, as Benny and Julia both have different opinions on what constitutes the best course of meandering. These conflicts of opinion often turn into squabbles, which turn into tears in short order. The camera has been a cause for concern.

I mean, look at that kid, he really wants that camera.

Again, having a destination in mind helps. Last night, we made an excursion the playground by way of CVS, which is on the other side of the borough. We needed mouse traps. We caught one mouse in a glue trap, which I hate. I’m no softie, but there’s something particularly cruel about glue traps, no matter how easily they fit below the oven. We have a catch-and-release trap (which I’m going to give one more chance to tonight) but I felt we needed the ol’ tried-and-true on standby just in case.

But I digress, we’re here for the puppies. This one is Sonny. (Click the picture to make it slightly bigger.)

Sonny is a Bichon/Shih tzu mix, which is nearly impossible to say without sounding drunk. Try it. You’ll slur like Foster Brooks.

I think Sonny lives on the corner up from our house, maybe. It was tough getting details while wrangling Benny and giving Julia camera advice.

All pictures courtesy of Julia.

Next time: Bo, perhaps friend of Sonny. I don’t know. It was a confused meeting.