Welcoming the Warg

So–recently we adopted my son when he was a baby, only in puppy form.

My son is 14. It’s been a while since the cutest-of-babes escaped under tables and chairs with deadly pens/pencils (scooted to the floor by our cats) in his mouth, believed NO meant PLAY, chose the couch over the potty for potty training, hated toddling on sidewalks instead of the middle of streets, etc.

Reasons I was a sleepless mother for the first 5 years of my son’s life have returned–often in Warg form (see Rings of Power).

Also returned?

Magical Energy!

puppy classes walking puppy walking puppy walking puppy writing at night when the Warg is a 35lb 16 week old adorable bundle slumbering on my feet as I work

I’m not going to tell you where my puppy came from, but if you knew? You, too, would accept puppy pee on your jeans. And take your puppy to multiple weekly puppy classes, where strangers and their new BF’s are instantly your new BF’s.

Yours in positive reinforcement, afternoon naps, and rediscovering evening hours to write,


About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, grateful. Fiction, memoir, poetry, kidlit (MG), member SCBWI. pbwrites.wordpress.com
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Words do not escape you

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