The Year of the Puppy

On Mother's Day last year, we did the unthinkable--we adopted a puppy!  After 20+ years of being dogless, our family decided it was time to reintroduce a fur ball to the mix.  

Bruce at 10-weeks old.

At first, I was against it.  "Our house is going to smell like dog," I whined.  There will be the fur, the messes, the poop, the dead grass from dog urine, and of course, all the money going out--for food, toys, treats, vaccines, vet bills, etc.  

Then when we adopted the little stinker, there was the biting, chewing, and jumping.  Chairs, clothes, towels, shoes, and our inflatable pool toys were ruined.  My legs were unsightly with scratch marks and black and blues, and my arms were sore from all the pulling and tugging.  "What did I get myself into?" I thought, as this fresh little puppy wasn't seeming to understand the word, "No." 

Bruce at 13-weeks old.

Our "COVID summer" was far from relaxing.  I spent nights on YouTube trying to learn the best ways to train Bruce, and we all had many sleepless nights trying to get this little pup into a potty routine.  Then there was the car and going for walks.  Before we adopted Bruce, I had daydreams of taking him on car rides and going for long walks together.  Now, I was staring at this little pup that 1) was scared to death of the car, and 2) parked his rear-end on the pavement every time I tried to get him to go for a walk with me.  

On one particularly difficult day, I managed to get little Bruce into the car, so I could take him to our town park about three miles away.  He sat in my lap during the entire car ride while I fed him treats--a method I employed every time to get him to stop being afraid of the car.  Once we arrived at the park, in standard form, he jumped out of the car and sat on his tush.  "Come on, Bruce," I coaxed.  "I have treats for you."  Surely, this little pup would walk with me on his leash if he knew I'd be doling out his favorite treats.

Little Bruce wouldn't budge.  In fact, he got off of his rump and started tugging in the opposite direction.  Now he wanted to go back into the car!  "What the...?" I mumbled under my breath, "Oh no you don't!"  A battle of the wills ensued--Bruce jerking in one direction and me in the other.  I was tired and cranky (after getting less than four hours of sleep because of you-know-who).  "Look," I scolded, "you're not the boss.  I'm the boss.  We're going to take a walk in this park, and you're going to like it."  I scooped the then 15 lb. Bruce into my arms, and I carried him to the trailhead.  Then I put him down.  The car was no longer in sight. "Are you ready?" I asked.  

Little Bruce belted out a few whimpers, but then he reluctantly walked.  By the time the 30 minute walk was up, the little pup was practically trotting with excitement.  (Now he didn't want to go back in the car!)

Bruce at 22-weeks old. (About 35lbs.)

As I write this now (almost seven months after our Matthies Park escapade), I'm giggling.  My stubborn little 15 lb. puppy is now almost 60 lbs.  There'd be no way I could scoop him up.  It was a long spring/summer/fall/winter, but sure enough, like magic, Bruce has become this lovable fixture to our family.  After 200+ car rides and walks, Bruce has officially become the walking buddy I've dreamed about, and we've explored at least 25+ new trails together in Connecticut.  (If I didn't have to work, I would have easily tripled that number.)  

Don't get me wrong.  He's still a puppy, and he still gets himself into mischief.  Watch out for unsupervised chicken tenders (or anything food related), rolls of toilet paper, and slippers/hats/gloves.  If it's out in the open, he will find it!  However, most of his mischief is done in a teasing manner...usually to coax a treat out of us when he lets go.  When things relax a bit this summer, I might sign him up to get a bit more training, but for the most part, he's a happy-go-lucky pup that loves to play, explore, eat, and give everyone love.  Now we can't imagine a day (or night) without him!