And Puppy Makes Three

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A week and a half ago, after many years of excuses and deliberations, we got a puppy. We had our eye on a different dog, a Schnauzer mix, but he was adopted before we could make it out to see him. The rescue said that we should still come by because they had one particular little guy in mind for us.

We arrived on the property of 1 Love Dog Rescue (which is a house with acres of land for dogs, basically my childhood dream) and in the distance we saw the owner coming towards us holding a tiny ball of black fur. The ball of fur did not get any bigger as he continued to approach us. The puppy turned his head to us and I promptly died of cuteness.

“Guys, this is Bear. He’s 8-weeks old and looking for a forever home.”
This guy was good.
He put Bear into my arms and my eyes met Dave’s. We knew it was over. We didn’t stand a chance.
“What exactly is he?” I asked.
“He’s a little Maltipoo.”
I noticed my husband visibly wince.

Not ten minutes later, we were on our way home with a tiny decision that would change our lives forever.

Well, readers, here I am reporting to you from ten days in and I would like to share what I have learned so far.

First, everything that everyone tells you about owning a puppy is true.

There is a tendency to hear horror stories and think ‘that would never happen to me’. Well, I’m here to say that it happens, the good, the bad and the stankey.

Second, don’t buy anything nice ever again.

Ok, that’s a little dramatic but it’s less than two weeks in and I have already donated one cute shoe, two nice blankets, a plethora of socks and a few pairs of underwear to the cause that is puppy-teeth. They are small but they will sink their teeth into ANYTHING. This does not exclude your ears, nose and ankles.

Third, prepare for everything to be covered in shit.

House training, shmouse training. Your puppy will drop a deuce wherever he damn well pleases. Sometimes he will even do it secretly so that you step on it in the middle of the night on your way to bed. Yes, those tricky puppies with their rectal ammunition. I shiver wondering where the next one will strike.

Fourth, sometimes your puppy will sound like he’s dying…he’s not. He’s just being an asshole.

In our effort to get a little sleep, a week in we acquired a little exercise pen that attaches to his crate/bed contraption. I’m not gonna lie, it’s really fucking nice in there. There are pee pads far enough away from his bed that he won’t be bothered by his own stench, all kinds of fun toys to play with, a great view of the television, the puppy equivalent of a California king size bed and hidden treats all over the place. It’s nice. And, it takes up half of our living room. He gets to hang out in a puppy palace right in the middle of the action rent-free with a personal chef, private cleaning service, daily massage and exercise program and nightly turndown. From the sound of it, you would think that we exiled him to Alcatraz.

Fifth, the contents of your purse will now be replaced with anything your puppy could ever need to survive.

Right now Bear is tiny so I have to take him to work. Actually, I have to take him everywhere. At all times, my purse contains a ridiculously heavy combination of dry food, treats, toys, pee pads, plastic baggies, water dishes, food dishes, the dreaded spray bottle for face biting and a leash which he definitely has not figured out yet.

Sixth, he’ll be so damn cute that all of these things will seem perfectly fine.

I know it sounds like the week from hell but it wasn’t and that’s the crazy part. I have fallen head-over-heels for our little puppy and I can’t imagine going on without him. Things will get harder then they will get easier but it won’t change that fact that, for the first time, I have someone to take care of that isn’t myself. I have made a commitment to care for Bear forever and it’s incredibly empowering. Plus, he gives the best fluffy cuddles and barks in his sleep and takes naps on my head.

Here’s to many more puppy posts to come!

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