Are you thinking about getting a puppy? Are your children’s pleas starting to take a toll on you? I know all about that stuff. Our youngest wanted a Staffordshire bull terrier and after some half-hearted resistance (after all, he’s almost through college—he’ll be taking the dog with him in a year or two, I thought), I collapsed like the proverbial house of cards and said yes. Now that Cambridge has lived with us for several months, I’ve come to the realization that even though it’s too late for me—I might still be able to help you! Here’s a glimpse into life with a puppy, complete with visuals.
You’re looking at the bottom of a support post on our back porch. As you can tell, Cambridge found it rather appealing. (Those crummy little stones, epoxied over the porch cement, are what The Man and I are in the process of covering with slate, by the way.)
Had enough yet? No? Oh, don’t worry, there’s more:
Cambridge loves to chew on plastic bottles. Once flattened, the edges are incredibly sharp. He has a new trick of pushing them up against my feet while I’m trying to do the dishes, and it feels like a knife is being plunged into my flesh. The white thing is a “rope” and the ugly things are always lying around the house. You get a twofer with those—besides being ugly, they also smell bad!
Next is a weird one:
This is a sturdy old bench I found on the side of the road while bikeriding a couple years ago. As soon as I saw it, I pulled over, whipped out the cell phone, and called my Special Middle Boy to come pick it up with our van. It sat out on the front porch the first summer. The next summer it was dragged to the backyard next to the pool. Last fall I thought, “Hey, I think I’ll stain and finish it and lug it to the basement to be used as a coffee table!” So that’s where it’s been for the better part of a year. Well last week, Mr. Cambridge, out of the blue, decided to hollow out a spot with his teeth. I don’t know how he even managed it, unless he clamped his top teeth over the board and dug at the wood with his bottom choppers….
As if all that wasn’t enough—here’s a real heart breaker. I’ve been making this quilt for my father-in-law’s wife. It should have been done about 3 years ago, but that’s another story. Pertinent to this story is the fact that Cambridge decided to leap at the quilt one day when I picked it up, (dogs just love to grab at swinging things) and now I have this to deal with:
Yes, that’s a tear (by the pin) created by puppy teeth. Guess we’ll be appliqueing a little leaf over that section….I wonder if quilt thread is strong enough to sew puppy lips together….
So thanks to that puppy, I have several more items to put on the old To-Do list. And you know what? That’s a big old fat draaaaag. Like there’s not enough to do without having to right all the dog’s wrongs! There’s nothing like feeling you can’t catch up—I believe the sensation can be likened to drowning—and it’s all because I was WEAK! I buckled under like an ant trying to carry a whole picnic basket—“Oh, OK—you can get a dog. But you’ll have to….blah, blah, blah, blah…” I may as well have placed a head of cabbage on the counter and given it a good talking to about responsibility and what a puppy needs and what would be expected of him. (Assuming the cabbage was a “him.”) I'm stuck dealing with this pup while Josh is at school, work, or playing on one of THREE basketball teams!
See this dog?
He’s not supposed to be on the couch. He jumped up there while I was taking a nap and sat right on the pillow.
That’s what it’s come to around here. Save yourself while there’s still time….
You have been warned. Go ahead—give in to those pleading children (or husband, perhaps)—just don’t come a cryin’ to me later on when the chickens of your “moment of weakness” come home to roost.
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