Puppy Love

When I was 9 years old, I wanted to be a veterinarian.  It was a sure thing.  The way I saw it was, the absolute worst thing I ever would have to do as part of the job description was give animals their shots (mostly because I thought shots were the absolute worst thing anyone would EVER have to endure in their life), and the absolute best thing....playing with animals would BE MY JOB!!!

Looking back, that was funny, because by animals, and my lack of experience with different types of pets and farm animals, I meant that my work would be almost exclusively with dogs (I got bitten by a cat once, and therefore wasn't sure I could ever have a successful relationship with one) and hopefully, mostly with PUPPIES.

Puppy Love.

I grew up on a farm.  Everyone I knew who lived on a farm had a dog or two or three.  When our family went out to visit our neighbors, I probably headed straight for their dogs, ignoring humans--grown-ups and kids alike--and played with their pets until it was time to go home.  Seriously, I loved every one with all my heart.

We usually had a dog on our farm, too, but lived on a busy (relatively...it was the 1960s) highway, which tended to seriously affect our dogs' life expectancies.  I remember my dad crying (once of only about three times ever in my life, I think), as he buried our beloved beagle Missy in an old feed sack in our grove. It's one of my earliest memories, asking my dad if I could see her "one last time" before he put her in the ground.  I remember him breaking down in tears showing me just a glimpse of her stubby tail sticking out from the Purina bag, to spare me the realities of this victim of a hit and run, as it seemed all our farm dogs eventually became.

I think that was probably the reason my parents sort of gave up on having a dog. Too many doggie funerals, the last was for a sweet little wire-haired terrier named Patty that we barely even got to know. Later on, we moved to town, and though we tried once more, with my black mutt, Jenny, we found that she was not happy cooped up in a house in a busy (relatively...it was the 1970s) neighborhood. When she took to running and roaming, we gave her away to a kind farm wife who lived on a relatively un-busy country road.

Fast forward at least 45 years (wow...it's a long time to be puppy-deprived).  For various reasons, the stars have finally aligned and made the time and conditions right for us to have a dog.  So of course, we got TWO. We are crazy.

I know it.  So I've read and read about it.  I know it will be hard...challenging...expensive...worrisome...messy.  It will also be a time full of oodles of mutual love (and puppy kisses).

They are Atlas

and Theia.

Because they are Titans in training.  Soon to outgrow their crates and beds and our couch.

 Big gentle loving puppies who we hope will turn into big gentle loving dogs.  If showering them with our own human love helps, it will be a shoe in.  Maybe many shoes before we get past the chewy stage. Because speaking for myself, I am in love. So much so that I find myself in tears watching them sleep with boneless abandon or twitching puppy paws under my table at work.

Thank You, God, for Cesar Millan, and others like him, who train people to treat their dogs as dogs and for all the good and sometimes conflicting puppy-training advice to be found on the internet.  We are going to do our best to help our new little friends (sorry....I am not into calling pets my babies...I know it's important that they are dogs first and foremost) have happy and fulfilling lives.  I know it will be a good time for Bob and I to communicate (which is my favorite thing to do anyway) about what I think are our differing pet-parenting (I know I said "parent," it's just a convenient word) styles. Bob's past life was full of pets of various species, shapes, and sizes, while I have lived my whole adult life with only cats....no guinea pigs, hamsters, or especially dogs. In addition, I don't think Bob has to try hard to be a pack leader. I have to think about it more.  But I figure that leading two puppies through life can't be much harder than leading packs of middle-schoolers.  Call me naive.  I really have no idea what to expect.

I do, however, expect that in the midst of housetraining failures and nightime-I don't-want-to-go-to-bed whining, and stubborn feisty  I-don't-want-to-listen-to-you-when-there-are-so-many-smells-to-be-discovered moments, and sorry-I-chewed-on-ate-or-destroyed-your-favorite-(fill in the blank), that the rewards will be great.

Of course, you know the best reward of all.

Looks of love, adoration, excitement, whipping tail wags, hilarious behaviors, and tons and tons of sweetest of sweet

Puppy Love.

big paws

puppy yin yang