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A Storm update:

The little dude is just over four months old now, weighs in at just under 30 pounds, and has the house training thing down pat (accident free for three weeks, pardon me while I knock on wood.)

All in all, we couldn't be more pleased with our little Stormy. He's a happy, playful puppy who has started to become a cuddler. Last week he climed up in a chair with my husband, snuggled in and took a nap. Over the weekend, he curled up on a pillow next to Coral and they blissfully snoozed together.

He patiently waits for his food, sits on command most of the time, and has mastered "stay" as much as I think I can expect for a little guy his age. We are still working on leash-walking. He starts out walking right beside us, but gets overstimulated and starts getting spastic as we get close to home.

We just have to keep at it.

Our only problem is finding a way to channel his inner terrier: He dug himself some rather deep holes in two spots in the backyard.

You may remember I blogged about the sunny Saturday morning that followed a Friday night of soaking rain when he went digging in a mud pit under our deck stairs. We followed advice from readers and planted some poo in the hole and he has indeed lost interest in that spot.

And we could do that again with these holes, but I think that only cures the symptom, not the behavior. And how many piles of poo do I realistically want to bury in our yard?

So I am seeking advice. The only thing I think I can do is watch him constantly while he's in the yard and correct him when he starts his excavation. But I don't know if that will really stop a behavior that I believe is his instinct to do. I cannot stop my greyhounds from running, and I would not even try.

But sprinting across the yard is quite different than making craters that could cause someone, a strolling person or a running dog, to get hurt. And if he starts burrowing under the fence, we have another serious issue.

Anyone out there been able to break a pooch's digging habit?

Here's my weekend lemons-to-lemonade story, courtesy of our puppy Storm.

When the little guy came trotting in from his mid-morning potty break on Saturday, he was covered in terra cotta-colored Virginia mud. It was all over his face, his legs, his tummy, and now our carpet. It was all I could do to get the clay-coated pooch back out the door before he started wiping himself off on the furniture.

The source of his filth was a small area under the stairs of our deck. Three summers ago we landscaped along the back of our house, and we added an in-ground water fountain under the deck steps that we could see from our basement patio.

Two summers ago we had the patio screened, and while we are thrilled with the patio, it obscured the view of the fountain.

During the construction of the screens, our contractor's border collie burrowed into the soft cool ground below the steps and behind the fountain for naps. This was not really an issue until Coral, the greyhound we adopted in the fall, started digging in the hole this spring.

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Life with our little Stormy is going well so far. I think. I hope.

Most days are good; I get a little concerned over some of the rough play in the back yard. Concerned to the point that the only time we let the terrier pup out with both greyhounds at the same time is the early morning potty break when they are still a little sleepy.

When Storm is out with just one big dog, they play and have fun. When all three of them are out there together, the hounds tend to gang up on Little Dude (his most common nickname) and roll him around and cover him with doggie noogies. The canine equivalent of stealing his lunch money.

Hackles go up, so we break it up. And then Storm looks at us like we spoiled his fun and he goes right back for more. There is a lot of greyhound psychology to this (all rules of nice play inside the house are forgotten in wide open spaces) so this is something we will have to work on for a while.

Monday night I was home alone with the pack since my hubby was out of town. I went through the usual dinner routine: Little Dude eats his supper upstairs while the big ones do their business in the yard. Then the puppy goes outside for his major transaction while the needle-nosed hounds come in for their dinner. Then we all come together in the family room for the evening.

It was going pretty well and I was rather proud of myself. Then it was time for bed. And Storm decides to avoid me.

He ran like a crazed jack rabbit through the house. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Under the dining room table and chairs, under the kitchen table and chairs. Anywhere I couldn't reach him. I ran square into one of the pet gates in the kitchen. A great deal of loud swearing ensued.

Little Brat (his second most common nickname) finally ran upstairs and into his crate. He then patiently waited for his good-boy reward for going into his den voluntarily. I catch my breath, close the door and give him his cookie.

I added an activity point to my WeightWatchers tracker for that escapade.

I could not resist. Here are two more pics of our new puppy.

And I should clarify this point: He is a pit bull terrier, also known as an American Staffordshire terrier, also known as Petey, the dog in the "Little Rascals" series and the pup in the ads for the Buster Brown company.

What is it with me and dogs that are also corporate icons?

Anyway, the name pit bull has such a negative connotation, and you deal with people like the commenter on this blog who described them as "furry alligators" and the circular thinkers at PETA who believe all my dogs should be destroyed to "save" them from stupid people who make them race or fight.

The only fighting we plan for Storm to do is with stereotypes, and maybe stuffed toys.

Ah, that sweet puppy breath will get you every time. After much thought and planning, we have decided to add a third canine to our clan.

Meet Storm, a puppy we are adopting from the Roanoke Valley SPCA. We are pretty sure he is an American Staffordshire terrier, dark gray and white with beautiful blue eyes. (He is the color of a storm cloud, hence the name.)

We met this little guy at the dog wash fundraiser for the Roanoke Dog Park. His foster mommy brought Storm out for the day, where he proceeded to steal every heart at the event including mine and my husband's.

We brought him home last night to meet the other pets in our family, and it went much better than I had even hoped. He played with both of our greyhounds, and he tried to make his tiny legs to keep up with Coral as she did hot laps around our backyard. Dexter is grumpy old man at the young age of five and growled at the baby a few times, but otherwise they got along okay.

Storm saw Thai, our cat, but paid him no attention. The pup ran into the velvet paw of India, my daughter's cat, this morning. He yipped and ran away. That's as good as it gets for puppy/kitty meetings.

I had to take him back to the SPCA today for his "little boy surgery", his vaccinations and microchip. If all goes well today, I can take him home tomorrow. We have now officially reached the limit for dogs in a single family residence in Roanoke County, so this little guy will be the last one we add to our family for a long while.

I admit being a little apprehensive, since it was more than 25 years since I last helped raise a puppy. But hey, life is an adventure and I don't buy expensive shoes anymore, so here we go.

Stay tuned for updates on life with our new puppy.