Admin Magnificapuppy Pavlova made it through the night last night dry for the first time. YAAAAAAAAAY.  I'm well aware that this doesn't mean there is no more cage (or floor*) cleaning in my future but it made this morning that little bit brighter.** I'm rapidly rolling into the Utterly Besotted phase -- you thought I was there already?  You poor silly people -- so I should probably have a Puppy Moratorium Night here soon.***  Everybody thinks their own beloved someone or other is unusually special.  But . . . Pavlova is. No, really.  No . . . REALLY.  Stop that laughing.  Because worry is my natural state I'm starting to worry that when she hits teething or adolescence her inner 666+ will emerge so I'd better enjoy the halcyon baby puppy days while I can, even if there are a lot of disgusting newspapers and mopping up involved.  But for example:  one of the few things I had been genuinely worrying about is that when we're playing and she misses and nips me FRELLING FRELLING FRELLING FRELLING THOSE MAY BE BABY TEETH BUT THEY'RE ALREADY IN A BULL TERRIER JAW.  FRELLING. Also, blood .  The hellhounds, who are not great chompers anyway++, were easily taught bite inhibition:  in the first place, they had each other, and so when I cried like a puppy if one of them bit me too hard, they backed off instantly.  Easy peasy.  And they never drew blood in the first place.  Pavlova . . .