Last week, I got a surprise that will not just change my regular week, but my whole life!
Do I have you on your toes?
It was Thursday--and a regular one at that. Sam came home from work that evening hauling his lunch cooler, coat, and laptop upstairs. He set his cooler on the counter and like regular, he began relaying the events of the day while I went to unpack his lunch box. When I opened the cooler, I jumped back. In the cooler was a surprise that has changed my forgetting-one-item-on-the-grocery-list pattern to forgetting five items on the grocery list. It's changed my sleeping pattern, my regular chores pattern, and my exercise pattern.
What!? What!? you ask.
I reached into the cooler and pulled out a puppy! The cutest thing you've ever seen--they call his colouring brindle, but I call it black and brown, with a patch of white on his chest, and a little white beard that looks funny for a pup. Sam told me that he'd been keeping this a surprise for 7 whole weeks. That's huge for Sam, considering his kind of surprise is usually: "I got you something! You wanna guess what it is?"..."nope, that's not it....nope, that's not it either. Okay, I'll give you two hints. But you only get one guess"...."No. That's not it."...."okay, one more guess"...."okay, one more"...."okay, I'll give you one more clue"....Well, the-cutest-thing-ever peed all over me while I coddled him.
And what kind of proud beast will this grow up to be? To me, he looked like he could be a Boxer and German Shepherd mix...but was for sure the runt of the litter. "Sarah, he's a Shorkie!" I was close. Well, not really. That's a mix between a Shih Tzu and a Yorkie. A toy dog?
Just to give a little back-story, we did talk about dogs at one point, and almost decided to get a pit bull, keeping him inside and out. However, Sam took into consideration my concerns about pit bulls and we eventually decided against it. After that, a few breed ideas were thrown around, but it got to be a little stressful just thinking about a dog in the house, what to do with it when we travel, etc., etc. Eventually, all doggie-talk stopped.
And now comes my public apology to all those inside-dog-owners I've accused and shaken my finger at, as if keeping a dog in the house is the most disgusting thing ever. Growing up, we had a handful of different animals--cows, goats, chickens, cats and dogs. They belonged outside. I loved having animals, but bringing them into the house just wasn't an option. However, moving away from home, creating a life, a family, and eventually a home of your own, you keep some rules that you grew up with, and others, you tweak or even discard. I never thought this would be one to discard, but because we don't have any little Sammy Jrs, well, a dog is the next best thing, right? And why not take the challenge? You can handle it, Sarah, says I. So as of Thursday, I suddenly and unexpectedly became an inside-dog-owner. And I don't think I realized just what an undertaking this was! Throwing a puppy into the mix of life has been hectic. Reading the child rearing booklet, I found myself nodding, agreeing, and sometimes, even slapping my leg exclaiming, that's just how I've always said it! as if the book were to have copied my theories. While training a dog is similar to that of child rearing, I thought, well dogs are easier because I only have to teach them obedience--they don't understand all the "why's." Nothing hard about that...
...until Harley. I can't tell you how many times I've picked him up to go potty outside, giving him lots of love and treats for going poo; or how many times I've put him on the potty pad when he goes, yet he still doesn't seem to connect "potty" with "outside." You'd think my hormones were changing--I've been on an emotional roller coaster over the course of four days. It started out with love: you're such a cutesy-wootsy! His ears flop up and down as he pitter-patters through the hall, or as his head jerks this way and that with his chew toy (an old sock). Then came night-time: spending endless hours listening to him whine and yelp; letting him out to go potty, trying to quiet him, and get him to stay in his crate. Then I find myself dramatizing, this is it. The end of my once peaceful life. I watched some puppy training videos on youtube where they must cheat somehow because the dogs obey every time. Regardless, I try to mimic the videos, but eventually slump to the ground and think, am I ever going to get through this? while he squats, leaving a perfect little puddle for me to clean up. I've been ever so careful to watch him, learning his stances when he's got to go, and when he's got to go! But so far, it's not the go! that's been the problem...There's so much that I need to teach him, but for now, I'm putting all my efforts into potty training the little rascal. So far, he's doing very well--or am I? That's where it gets a little confusing for me. Is it me that's getting better at recognizing when he's got to go and taking him outside more often, or is it him getting better at going when I take him outside? Perhaps it's a mixture of both.
Here's a little video showing his playful side.
So, how is Sam managing? you may wonder. He has SO much patience with him. After those long nights up with the dog, instead of grumpily slumping around the kitchen like me, he said, "he's just a puppy! He probably misses his Momma and family." All I could do was look at Sam with my bloodshot eyes and grunt.
Yes, Sam has been just wonderful with him.
