By Margi Washburn
What were we thinkng?
It's understandable when a child reacts emotionally to an upset in their world, but as adults we're supposed to know better. Sometimes we don't.
I think we've always had a dog. Or a dog, a cat and a guinea pig. We may have had fish at some point. Once we even had four dogs and four cats and I've no idea how we managed but nothing comes to mind that makes me think it was anything other than ordinary.
We're both older now, yet none the wiser. That would explain the yellow lab-mix by the name of Sarah who now lives with us and who has turned our world upside down.
This four-legged menace has even caused a strain in friendships, mostly because of where she came from. I've no clue as to why that should matter, but to some folks it does.
What concerns me is that I didn't do my homework. There have been times when I've done so much investigating into an issue that it drove me and those closest to me completely bonkers. When it came to finding a pooch to fill the hole in our hearts, hubby and I threw our collective common sense to the wind and operated purely on emotions. That was beyond stupid.
To make matters worse, I brought home an armful of books from the library and read all I could about labs. They're supposed to love water; Sarah yelps when the slightest mist touches her fur.
If we'd known that labs have a bottomless pit of energy, we would have turned and walked swiftly away from that woeful stare at the shelter. She seemed so calm, and she never opened her mouth to bark. What a performance she gave that day.
Sarah outgrew a borrowed kennel so she had to have a new one. She eats well, and she loves Kong toys, an odd-shaped piece of red rubber that I stuff with treats and peanut butter. I'd been told to freeze this concoction because it would take longer to get the goodies out of it. Sarah finishes it off in less than ten minutes, then brings it to me. She drops the slimy, hairy thing in my lap, sits back and waits for me to refill it.
Hubby and I had a quiet home for a few days between dogs, but that's gone now. Sarah sounds like a herd of cattle as she romps around with squeaky toys in her mouth. We know that our home, big as it is, just isn't big enough. We've opened doors so she can run up and down the stairs to burn off some energy, but she still wants to go for a walk about every half hour or so. That kind of behavior can put a serious kink into one's life, and it has.
There are no more naps in the recliner. Even if the dog is taking a rare snooze, the moment you slip into la-la land, she will suddenly appear at your side. Before you can fully awaken, she'll give you a nose-butt until you sit up straight and await further instructions. To top things off in the oddest way, Sarah has developed a wildly hilarious bark and she especially lets loose with one whenever we say the word “Sandy.”
We've been watching the Dog Whisperer, a profoundly misnamed show if there ever was one. Cesar Milan has been invaluabe, helping the both of us reclaim our title as pack leaders of our home. Sarah walks better on the leash now, though once in a while she wrenches my arm but good when she sees a bug, squirrel, rabbit, tractor, garbage bag, bird or fire hydrant.
It's exhausting having a puppy in our lives. She slobbers, requires too much of our time and energy (let's not even talk money here, please), and she's getting bigger by the minute. We have been told that after a year, she'll calm down and be the best dog ever. Then we were told it would be a year and a half. The last prediction was three years, and I think we both nearly cried on the spot.
I know I should have done my research first, and maybe we should have looked into getting an older dog instead of a pup. But the thing is, we went with our hearts and I think that deep down where it really matters, hubby and I are certain that we did the right thing. The three of us will have to live with our decision and hope with every fiber of our beings that the time comes soon when Sarah turns into the best dog we ever had.
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