Lord help me. We got ourselves a puppy about a month ago, and I am exhausted.
Yes, we should have gotten a rescue dog. I realize that, so please don’t leave a comment admonishing me for falling into the cute-little-puppy trap. I already agree with you.
He is definitely cute.
Particularly in photos, or while sleeping. And he’s little. But only in size, not in personality.
The dog trainer we talked to a couple of weeks ago called him “a bold little guy.” In other words, he is pushy, demanding, hyper, and exceedingly difficult to control. He is, in short, a toddler who is not potty trained and who runs around the house without a diaper.
He is stretching my patience and forcing me–a committed homebody–out the door into the neighborhood for long, fast walks that wipe me out and pump him up.
I have met neighbors, which can be difficult to do when there are a few acres between each front door and mailbox. It’s that cuteness thing again. People in cars pull over and roll down their windows to see him. People on bikes stop and coo. People in their front yards drop their rakes to come and say hello.
All of which Mr. Puppy loves. He squirms, wags, and makes hilarious semi-whining sounds as the neighbors approach, and then he attempts murder-by-licking.
If I can survive the puppy days, which is somewhat in doubt (I’ve already almost posted an item on Craig’s List to sell him), I think Mr. Puppy might change me for the better.
Let’s put it this way: “If I do not kill him, he’ll make me stronger.”