When I was in my delusional state a few weeks ago and decided that we NEEDED a dog, I honestly thought it was just one of those things that I have done so many times I could do it with my eyes closed. This is not my first rodeo, as they say; we have brought 6 dogs into our home over the last 26 years. Four of those were puppies who needed to be taught everything, one was 4 months old, partially blind and had bad knees and Stevie Nicks was a year old, but not exactly house-broken. The thought of a new puppy really didn’t scare me. Sure, I knew there would be some adjustments like sleepless nights and the constant monitoring of pee/poop habits, but we had been there and done that.
I don’t want to brag, but let me remind you that we have also raised three little humans and all the things that go along with that very long process. I don’t want to get ahead of myself because we still have one at home and let’s face it, she could go off the rails at anytime. I will say that we did potty train them and get them to sleep through the night.
By morning, he was more himself and we were back to the training.
While I was relieved that he wasn’t sick, I was frustrated with all of it. I felt like a new mom who had been with a crying baby all day. I needed a break, a new perspective or at least someone to make dinner.
Thursday, I woke up and prayed for a better day. He had slept through the night so we were already moving in a positive trajectory. He clearly felt better and his appetite and energy were back. By the end of the day though I was exhausted. This puppy thing was getting to me. I realized that with the pup being sick for a few days that he had quickly taken over my life. I was molding my life around the schedule of the dog instead of the other way around.
By Friday, I was back to hard-core training the dog to show him who was alpha and it wasn’t him despite how the last few days had gone. I let that little beast bark and cry and whine, but I did not cave. I ran my errands, let him outside regularly and lo and behold, he did better.
This week our little monster will be 11 weeks old. Some people say that he really can’t understand what we are asking him to do nor can he control his bladder until 12 weeks old. Let’s hope that things start to really turn around next week. Until then though we will just keeping beating our head against the wall in hopes that something is getting through!
On a positive note, he really is the cutest little beast. It’s difficult to be frustrated with him too long when he looks at you and tilts his little head. He loves playing fetch already and he SEEMS to understand our commands for him to sit, lay down and stay. Maybe there is hope for him after all.