A few weeks ago we welcomed a ten pound, eight week old Labradoodle named Daisy into our home.
Rob and I have never had a dog before, ever. I wouldn’t exactly describe us as “pet people.” In fact, I’ve never ogled over doggy pictures on-line or craved the attention of a neighbor’s pup. It used to embarrass me, my absence of animal fondness. I figured I was missing the furry love gene.
Still we found ourselves excited as we prepared for our new arrival. I hoped it was like other monumental endeavors--owning a house, having kids--different when it was yours. (And besides the boys professed they’d do EVERYTHING. So we were set.)
We bought the puppy books, found a vet, and listened to lots of advice from family and friends, veterans of the puppy universe.
Then we dove in. To potty training, endless chewing, strange playing behaviors, tummy rubs, licks, (lots of licks!), and even puppy class.
We’re six weeks in and my now twenty pound ball of fuzz occupies way more of my day and heart than I ever could have imagined. Daisy is making lots of progress with the sit, come, stay, appropriate potty behavior routine.
And I’d say we’ve made progress too. In fact, in the last few weeks, she’s taught me a thing or two.
The grass isn’t always greener in someone else’s yard. I’ve spent more time in my back yard in the last 6 weeks than in the 6 years we’ve lived in our house. No exaggeration! I’ve gotten to intimately know each patch of grass. “Go potty. Go potty.” Our chosen command. (You need one according to the puppy book).
And you know what? I like my backyard. I don’t know what took me so long to discover how awesome it is.
Life is simple. A good day requires some pee, poop, a couple of good meals (not necessarily in that order), lots of sleep, a walk or two and an end-of-day belly rub. What more is there? Life is good.
What’s the hurry?! Ten years ago my life was full of pauses. Naptime. Diaper change time. Feeding time. Burping time. Tummy time. In the last few years, not so much. It’s mostly been go, go, go! But now it is impossible to hurry out the door, to zoom past Daisy.
The tail wags. The head cocks. She talks in her puppy way. “Where you going?” “When will you be back?” “Want to play?”
And so I do, whenever I can. Because unlike 10 years ago...I now know. How fast it all goes.
