As I type this, I am sitting here intermittently watching the dog chew on his basket.

It is the kind of basket one would put apples or garden vegetables in, it measures about 10 inches wide by 20 inches long.

To start with, the basket was a handy place to put him when it was time to go somewhere. Inside its confines he could be warm and sleep, but he wasn't big enough to climb over the side. Now the basket is like a security blanket and the dog, fast becoming too large for it, climbs in and out to take a 'cat nap' from time to time.

He also enjoys chewing on the top of the basket or pushing it around to different areas of the floor, just to try out some new sleeping quarters, I suppose.

Yes, it is surprising how he over-fills the basket now. Especially considering that only a couple of short weeks ago, he was dwarfed by it.

Then again, I suppose he was a dwarf of sorts, so that does make sense. As the runt of the litter, he was slow to grow. Now he is really gaining size quickly. He is also a very vocal dog. A vocal dog has its points. For one thing, it is really entertaining to have a conversation with the dog and have him answer. For instance, I say, "Do you want something to eat?" And the dog answers me, "Yap."

Sometimes he brings me things, like a dog treat, drops them and gives me a loud, "Yip."

I don't know what he really wants, but I usually take it for an invitation to play. Soon he will be big and won't be nearly so cute and cuddly, so I am trying to enjoy his growing years and teach him as much as possible. Sometimes I ask non-sensible questions just to make sure he doesn't fully understand human conversation, which could pose problems later. Like, for instance, if I buy him off-brand dog food one month when the money gets tight or if I wanted to have him neutered or take him to the vet. I wouldn't want to go to sleep around a dog who found out he was about to be neutered. In addition, I already know how difficult trips to the vet can be for a savvy dog and his owner from talking to my friends, all of whom claim their dogs know when they are going to the vet's office.

I wonder if some of them know they are going to the vet simply because that is the only time they are put in a pet carrier and loaded in the family fun wagon. However, in other instances, I know the dog gets to ride around quite a lot and still seems to feel the 'portent' of vet in the air.

At any rate, my little critter is now to the 'kill' stage. He kills bottles, a dried pig ear I bought him at the hardware store, paper towel cardboard rolls, small boxes, rugs, towels, shoes and socks (on or off the people) or just about anything else that will fit or nearly fit into his mouth. He has a bone made of rawhide, a rubber ducky chew toy and a stuffed dog that he sleeps with.

But, somewhat surprisingly, his favorite toy is a two-liter bottle, squeezed in the middle with the lid placed back on it so that it holds that shape. Every time he attacks the bottle, it slides across the hard-tile floor and makes a scrape and clatter that incite more attacks. It also rocks back and forth after it has been hit to make it even more enticing. Sometimes, the bottle is finally 'dead' when it quits moving. Sometimes I am grateful for the quiet and let it be, but other times I take the bottle and give it a spin just to watch him attack with vigor. The very voraciousness of his attacks is entertaining, complete with mean growls and snarls, bared teeth and a generally ferocious demeanor. Of course, it sounds worse than it is. After all, he only weighs in at under 10 pounds.

I guess he makes up for size with persistence, though.

Of course, it is hard to enjoy trying to get your socks away from a puppy that thinks like a ravenous wolf or trying to save your good sneakers from a sneak attack.

I think it would be a lot more fun if the puppy were attacking someone else's sneakers and being trained to use the bathroom at someone else's house. But I suppose the trials and tribulation are all part of the process.

We crossed another mile marker on the road to adulthood last night. I placed his first collar around his neck. It was only 10 inches long and is made of woven fabric. He hates it, of course.

I am getting ready to try and leash train him. I am sure that will be fun. Today I put him on the leash when we went outside and he locked down all four legs and leaned way back, as if to say, "Just try and move me."

I didn't want to drag him behind me like a fish out of water, so, once I saw he was not going to cooperate, I just put the leash away and let him play in the grass.

I guess sometimes you have to let them just be puppies.

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