As expected, we adopted Angel on Wednesday night. We stopped by the Nancy Reagan clone foster mom's big-ass house and met Angel, who was dwarfed by a pack of other rowdy dogs. She immediately jumped up on us and then flopped on her back for a tummy rub. Who could resist that. And she's got a very Bloodhound looking face, which appeals to me.

I stayed home from work yesterday to keep her company in her new home and take her for lots of walks and stuff. She's good on a lead, but wants to chase cats and squirrels. The cats loathe her already, so I know she'll fit right in eventually. Molly is actually doing better on the acclimating front than Tux is. Tux wants to run, which makes Angel want to chase. Molly will go to high ground and then hiss and swat when Angel pokes her nose too near.

Angel has also made herself right at home in our bed come bedtime. I actually didn't think she'd be able to jump up that high, but it's no problem for her. We've sort of decided to let her do it. She's good about staying at the foot of the bed, and Deb likes the feel of a heavy warm body still in the bed when I leave for work in the mornings.

I've been thinking I want to get one of those counter things with the little push buttons to keep track of my mileage with Angel. We've done about four or five miles already in a day and a half.

Oh, and she horked up her entire breakfast Thursday morning. Bleah. Very stealthily, too, I might add. No traditional horking noise. I just happened to look over at her and there she was, standing in front of a pile of regurgitated dog food.

She doesn't bark much at all. We've only heard it a couple of times. It's a really hearty BWOOOO or a brief BWUF. Can you tell I'm enamored?

And speaking of enamored, Sara and I found time to have a date yesterday afternoon.

It had been a while since we'd had sex last, so Sara requested a "first time" scene. I love those, because the first kiss really resembles that first kiss feeling when you're into the scene. We set up Sara as a (probably grad) student who'd invited her frequently travelling new neighbor over for dinner. We sat down together, talked about world events, each other, that kind of stuff. And then she told me that she'd taped "Buffy" and "Angel" for me as I had asked.

I told her that was really sweet of her and leaned over and gave her a little peck kiss. She said, "How sweet was it?", raising her eyebrows a bit and dropping the anvil-sized hint. I leaned over more slowly while I answered, "Incredibly, amazingly sweet," and then kissed her for real. Don't you just love those kisses that feel like someone's tied a string around your clit and applied just the right amount of tension?

She told me she'd been attracted to me since she'd seen me drop all of my pots and pans across the yard while I was moving and heard me exclaim, "shhhhhoot." That set me up as the "nice guy". We continued to kiss and make out.

Bad: "Would it ruin my nice guy status if I told you I didn't want to stop?"
Sara: "I'm not sure. Would it make me a bad girl if I told you I didn't want you to?"

Ungh. So the rest of the scene as we fucked and rested, fucked and rested, was filled with questions about what was the baddest thing we'd done or fantasized about, and testing how far Sara's character was willing to go right then. We didn't do anything nearly as wicked as we're capable of, but we still had a blast.

Casualty list: one condom, three towels, two bed pads, all the sheets and the comforter. Sara came in huge gushes twice, and I asked her if we needed another towel set as we got ready for another go-round. Sara: "No, I don't think I can come that much." Bad: "Sounds like famous last words to me." They were. Good thing we have a sturdy washer and dryer.