Puppy Love

I'm thinking about getting a puppy. My friends and relatives think I am insane given the fact that I have two children and another dog destroying my house on a regular basis as it is. And sometimes, if I'm lucky, I've got the neighbors dogs running through the house as well. This is all especially fun when it is raining and a Saturday and I am having friends over for dinner. (Actually, that is precisely why I want another dog. To keep it real).

Since the seed has been planted, I have been blessed with memories of when my dogs were puppies. There is indeed, Gracie, who is still alive and kicking. There are memories of Lucky (who wasn't so lucky after all, given that a speeding car took her down. I say it lightly, but my heart is still broken over that one), and of course, Sebastian who rocked the dog world and my household for thirteen years.

They were all puppies at some point. And they all come with tales (and tails, if we're technical). For instance, Sebastian was a doberman and very protective, menacing-looking but a sweetheart. Yet, when the doorbell rang, watch out. He was at the door in the time it takes a person to blink. On one particular Saturday, the household task was to paint the hallway in the townhouse that connected the upstairs and downstairs. The color was a beautiful blue to be shown against the white carpeting of the stairs. The paint was poured into the tray, and we were happily painting the walls. Then the doorbell rang, and here's what happened:

Sebastian awoke from a sound sleep and jumped from the master bed, into the hallway, into the paint tray with all four paws, down the first set of white-carpeted stairs, down the second step of white-carpeted stairs, onto the purgo floor of which he slid across and onto the tiled foyer in front of the door where he barked, jumped, and turned in circles. You can imagine the joy in having to clean that up!

Oh, and then there is the memory of Gracie as a pup. First off, she had a bad case of separation anxiety, so walking to the mailbox required much consolation. We couldn't put her in a crate because she would foam at the mouth like a rabid raccoon and would tear up her teeth and paws (have you ever smelled a rotten tooth?), so we kind of locked her in a room and hoped for the best. Somehow she got out. She ran to the kitchen, up on the stove, on top of the refrigerator and pulled down a poster that had just been printed from Kinkos. It cost nearly $400 and was destroyed when we got home. I suppose this made her hungry, so she pulled down the entire bag of sugar that sat on the countertop and brought it into the dining room, the playroom, the living room, the bedrooms upstairs and finished it off. It happened five years ago, and I still find sugar grains around the house!

Finally, Lucky-girl. I found her as a pup, walking down the middle of a busy road, and despite the direction that I should turn my head because she was probably going to get clipped, I walked into the main road, directed traffic away from her and picked her up. Love. Love. Love. She was mine from that point on.

I went to church one Sunday, leaving my new puppy with my then-husband to watch. He was fine with it, and tied Lucky to a small tree outside our townhouse while he washed his car. Within thirty seconds, Lucky chewed through the leash and was running about the neighborhood, Sebastian chasing after her to talk some sense into her. My then-husband scooped her up, tied her to the tree with a thicker leash and commenced washing the car. It took her a while, but she chewed through that leash too. Seeing no other option, he put her into the house for a few minutes to run loose while he dried off the car.

When he opened the front door, three potted trees were down and Lucky was running around the small house with a tree branch, wrestling with it like it was a cat. My then-husband yelled, "What did you do?" and tried to race after her. She slid beneath the kitchen table into the chairs and he chased her, slipping on soil and other debris. A couple chairs were knocked over, a few more leaves were scattered and the whole thing was left for me to see as I walked in from church, a graceful and peaceful feeling in my heart. When I discovered the mess of the house, I immediately ran to my then-husband and asked if he was okay, assuming that a robber had been involved in some of this struggle. I think I might have even looked to the ceiling and walls for gunshot holes. He pointed at Lucky and said, "It was her! She was only in the house for 10 minutes and she did all of this!"

I laughed. Heartily, I laughed until tears fell from my chin. My Lucky-girl. Love. Love. Love.

Cannot wait to take the kids to pick out their new pup.