I have been saying no for at least 4 years. Eric asked. Matthew pleaded. Grace begged. When the Humane Society came to Eric’s work last Monday, with furry friends to be snuggled, I knew the battle was over. It didn’t help that his coworker sent me this picture of Eric holding a ball of fur with the caption, See you tonight?
My reply back was Cute! Just as long as it’s not coming home with him, he can pet it all he wants. :) A cat and two kids are enough right now. I have no idea what happened next, because less than 5 hours of seeing that picture, I agreed to adopt an 11-week old puppy.
So, on Thursday, Eric got up really early, drove to the east side of Portland, and waited in the rain for 2 hours to be the first in line to adopt this little puppy. (The Humane Society said puppies go fast and it’s first come, first serve.) Eric was the first in line. The irony of it all is that he was the only person in line. An hour later, an older woman joined him line to wait. She wanted an adult dog.
Having a puppy is like having a 3rd child. Well, almost. I had to baby-proof the house again, buy gates that I had given away, and make a small investment in chew toys. While we’ve only had him a week, some hours feel like years. At 12 pounds, he’s cute and little, but I know he’ll be HUGE in a few months. (The vet thinks he may be lab-pit bull mix, a labrabull, which initially scared me, but doing some research has assuaged that fear. Do you see this? I think it has to do with the ears and the wider set eyes.)
Eric and the kids couldn’t be happier. So needless to say, my time has been spent trying to wear out this energetic pup, whom we have affectionately named Scout, instead of baking. Cleaning up bodily-functions instead of baking. The upside is that the puppy stage is short (relatively, right?) and life should go back to normal soon. And, when his legs get longer and he becomes stronger, I can take him on my 4-5 mile walks as I train for my next half-marathon. That is, if I can get the dog away from the kids.