I approached having a puppy with the same trepidation that most people approach having a root canal. I wasn’t being coy when I said I’d never wanted a puppy. People who have raised puppies are always in an uproar about “never wanting to do it again” and “it was the hardest thing. Ever.”
Stupidly I listened to them.
Auggie came home with us, and a rock formed where my stomach had been merrily sitting hours before, and I panicked (inwardly). What the FUCK was I thinking? I thought to myself, here I am, finally having weened the kid and insisted he sleep through the night, like it or not, so I celebrate by BUYING A PUPPY?
Epic bad judgement, I told myself.
Yesterday night, it dawned on me as I waited for things to get REALLY HARD: yes, having a puppy is hard work, but absolutely easier than either of my children as babies. It’s the same nimrods who chuckle and tell you to kiss your sleep goodbye when you tell them that you’re pregnant that tell you how hard puppies are.
When you’re used to breast-feeding, being THE ONLY ONE who can comfort the baby, and NOT LETTING THEM CRY IT OUT BECAUSE THEY MIGHT HYPERVENTILATE THEN DIE, a puppy is a snap. Sure, he pees on the carpet now and again, sure I have to take him out every hour or so, and sure he doesn’t ALWAYS like it when I put him in his cage, BUT IT’S NOT THAT BAD! Especially when you compare the level of need to the level of need of a baby.
And to make matters better, the most unexpected side effects have also occurred:
1) Ben considers the puppy his puppy and is helping me out a shit ton. Despite having a menagerie for a house, Ben has never cared a bit about any of the animals. Sure, he’s fine with them, but it’s indifference at best. Now, he is thrilled to help with his pup.
2) Cash, the world’s most aggressive houseplant has taken a shine to the baby puppy. This is the dog who I cannot take out on walks alone with Alex because I cannot wrestle Cash while ensuring Alex’s safety should another dog come along. I have literally been in the middle of a dog fight with Cash, and had to yank all 40 pounds of him away and carry him home all while screaming for help (the other dogs owner was INSIDE and had LEFT HER DOG OUTSIDE). THAT was a fun time, LET ME TELL YOU.
So, after three days, the rock in my belly has lessened, and I’m feeling pretty okay with the whole situation. Our house is full of life again.
I’m trying to catch the proportions of the puppy, but I haven’t yet been able to illustrate just how teeny-tiny he is.
The houseplant in (in)action: