I will NEVER have a dog in the house. They smell bad. They make messes. They bark. They smell bad. They get underfoot. They lick. They smell bad.
That sums up how I have felt for the past 36 years. But last weekend, something happened. I had a brief moment of weakness. The kids got the best of me. And now look what I have in my house. It’s a dog. (Oh, and thank you to my neighbor for loaning me the play yard/puppy jail. Without it, every last shred of my sanity would be completely gone.)
I’m S-L-O-W-L-Y warming up to him. He’s a 9-week old labradoodle, and he’s actually pretty cute during the day. (Not so cute at 3 a.m., though.) I’m hoping that someday he will live primarily outside. But I know there will be times that he’ll need to come in, so we’re going through the painful housebreaking process.
MacGyver likes to bite. He likes to chew. He likes to go #1 and #2 on my white carpet. But the kids adore him, and I love seeing their smiles.
I was hoping that a puppy might give me new opportunities to take some cute pictures, until I realized how unbelievably impossible it is to take pictures of a puppy. I was trying to take a picture of him with Torin, but he wanted to bite her ponytail and crawl on top of her head instead.
Dave wasn’t sure I could handle it. I think he’s afraid he’ll come home from work one of these days and find that I’ve run away. But I know he likes dogs as much as the kids do, so I’m doing this for him, too.
Having a puppy in the house is really hard for me, but I also think that if I can stick it out for six months or so, I will learn to really love this dog. I see potential in him. I think when he’s older (and housebroken), we’ll be close friends. Until that day, I’ll put on my fake smile, spray some air freshener, and try not to go completely bonkers.