We got a puppy this weekend.
Her name is Polly and she is a Bernese Mountain Dog. She will grow to be a 100 pounds (yes), but Berners are known for their laid-back, loyal, non-aggressive personalities. She is a sweetheart and we are really excited for the new addition to the family. (Although it's been a really funny transition, more on that later.....)
For a year or more, I've reeeaalllly resisted the idea of getting a dog. Tim and I have decided that, for a lot of reasons, we are waiting to have kids for....... an indefinite amount of time. We are in no rush because of our really busy lives, spontaneous trips, and goal to grow in our careers and build a really nice nest egg before we start paying for daycare.
To me, a dog is a step in that direction.
We discussed the matter for months but were really at an impasse. Tim agreed that the dog would be an additional expense and more responsibility, but didn't think it was the life-changing [read: marriage-changing] event I was making it out to be. I was certain that we would just argue about the dog -- who would take it out, who would clean up the gross messes, what would we DO if the dog ruined parts of the beautiful house we have.
Sometime a few months ago, I don't know what happened -- but I changed my mind. Maybe it's a crazy side effect of a quarter-life crisis, but I want the new adventure. I still worry about the mishaps that will happen along the way, but I am ready to shake things up a bit. I could stand to be *cough* less uptight *cough* than I am now. So, I decided a dog would be the best thing I could ever give Tim for his birthday (July 22) and it would be a great surprise.
Now to the stories. (Some are funny because we are, what? On Day 3. Warning: if you get squeemish just reading words like "puke," you should return to your regularly-scheduled Facebooking at this time.)
A few friends of ours who inspired me with their Bernese Mountain dog helped me plan Tim's surprise trip out to the breeder in Radcliffe, Iowa. We concocted an outing to visit a few Iowa wineries in the central/north part of the state. We shared Google maps with Tim, we talked about how excited we were, how great it would be to taste tannens on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
While we planned, they helped me pick out almost everything we would need to get started at home -- food, treats, collar, leash, a few toys, crate and CLEANER.
To really seal in the lie Sunday, we actually stopped at a winery outside Tama, tasted and bought, then left for the "second" winery north and east of Ames. Soon, we found ourselves on a gravel road outside of Radcliffe. We told Tim the winery was nearby (he bought it). But really, we turned into the driveway of the breeder's house where she had a bunch of Berners hanging out on a blanket in front.
I told Tim we weren't going to any more wineries that day! He was so shocked that he didn't say ANYTHING. Just smiled. (And maybe there was a tear there, Tim?) We played and picked Polly and brought her home (she was a champ in the car).
Then, the fun REALLY started. She slept most of the evening but at night when we put her in the crate, she cried. Like, heart-breaking, human, cries. All night. We had the crate in our room and Tim went back and forth between our bed and her crate, trying to comfort her. The highlight of the night happened around 2 a.m., when he handed me a pillow to put over my ears, then went to check on Polly, only to discover that she was so upset, she puked on her blanket. He got me up and handed me the puppy so he could clean her crate (by flashlight?). Then a trip to the yard, back to bed and more crying.
Tim finally just decided to get up for the day between 5 and 6 a.m., only to discover that while our cat, Frank, really could care less about Polly, he LOVES her dog food. Three more piles of animal puke to clean up.
Yesterday, I came home at lunch to let Polly out, and when we were playing, she started eating charred wood out of the yard (leftover from our fire pit). I'd never done this before, but I decided it was time to man up and get in there -- I fished around in her mouth to get it out, then hauled her inside to try and get her to take a drink of water. (Omen: puppies/dogs will eat..... everything.)
This morning was another three-ring circus. We moved Polly's crate downstairs and before bed, we put a warm cloth and our worn T-shirts in there with her and she settled right down. Tim let her out in the middle of the night with no problems, but this morning, another surprise. She's, uh, having some issues adjusting to her new food. We'll leave it at that. Tim got to give Polly her first bath at home!
Tim hopped in the shower to get ready for the day (her first appointment at the vet was at 8 a.m.), while I watched her, then we traded. But right before Tim was ready to leave, Frank puked on the carpet..... again. (By the way, we haven't had any issues with Frank since we FIRST brought him home to our apartment years ago).
Ah, gees.
I have to say, though, I am so proud of my husband. He's handled all of the gross stuff in stride, and just seems genuinely ecstatic to have the opportunity to take care of a dog (and weirdly-adjusting cat).
Here's to all the new adventures to come!
Her name is Polly and she is a Bernese Mountain Dog. She will grow to be a 100 pounds (yes), but Berners are known for their laid-back, loyal, non-aggressive personalities. She is a sweetheart and we are really excited for the new addition to the family. (Although it's been a really funny transition, more on that later.....)
For a year or more, I've reeeaalllly resisted the idea of getting a dog. Tim and I have decided that, for a lot of reasons, we are waiting to have kids for....... an indefinite amount of time. We are in no rush because of our really busy lives, spontaneous trips, and goal to grow in our careers and build a really nice nest egg before we start paying for daycare.
To me, a dog is a step in that direction.
We discussed the matter for months but were really at an impasse. Tim agreed that the dog would be an additional expense and more responsibility, but didn't think it was the life-changing [read: marriage-changing] event I was making it out to be. I was certain that we would just argue about the dog -- who would take it out, who would clean up the gross messes, what would we DO if the dog ruined parts of the beautiful house we have.
Sometime a few months ago, I don't know what happened -- but I changed my mind. Maybe it's a crazy side effect of a quarter-life crisis, but I want the new adventure. I still worry about the mishaps that will happen along the way, but I am ready to shake things up a bit. I could stand to be *cough* less uptight *cough* than I am now. So, I decided a dog would be the best thing I could ever give Tim for his birthday (July 22) and it would be a great surprise.
Now to the stories. (Some are funny because we are, what? On Day 3. Warning: if you get squeemish just reading words like "puke," you should return to your regularly-scheduled Facebooking at this time.)
A few friends of ours who inspired me with their Bernese Mountain dog helped me plan Tim's surprise trip out to the breeder in Radcliffe, Iowa. We concocted an outing to visit a few Iowa wineries in the central/north part of the state. We shared Google maps with Tim, we talked about how excited we were, how great it would be to taste tannens on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
While we planned, they helped me pick out almost everything we would need to get started at home -- food, treats, collar, leash, a few toys, crate and CLEANER.
To really seal in the lie Sunday, we actually stopped at a winery outside Tama, tasted and bought, then left for the "second" winery north and east of Ames. Soon, we found ourselves on a gravel road outside of Radcliffe. We told Tim the winery was nearby (he bought it). But really, we turned into the driveway of the breeder's house where she had a bunch of Berners hanging out on a blanket in front.
I told Tim we weren't going to any more wineries that day! He was so shocked that he didn't say ANYTHING. Just smiled. (And maybe there was a tear there, Tim?) We played and picked Polly and brought her home (she was a champ in the car).
Then, the fun REALLY started. She slept most of the evening but at night when we put her in the crate, she cried. Like, heart-breaking, human, cries. All night. We had the crate in our room and Tim went back and forth between our bed and her crate, trying to comfort her. The highlight of the night happened around 2 a.m., when he handed me a pillow to put over my ears, then went to check on Polly, only to discover that she was so upset, she puked on her blanket. He got me up and handed me the puppy so he could clean her crate (by flashlight?). Then a trip to the yard, back to bed and more crying.
Tim finally just decided to get up for the day between 5 and 6 a.m., only to discover that while our cat, Frank, really could care less about Polly, he LOVES her dog food. Three more piles of animal puke to clean up.
Yesterday, I came home at lunch to let Polly out, and when we were playing, she started eating charred wood out of the yard (leftover from our fire pit). I'd never done this before, but I decided it was time to man up and get in there -- I fished around in her mouth to get it out, then hauled her inside to try and get her to take a drink of water. (Omen: puppies/dogs will eat..... everything.)
This morning was another three-ring circus. We moved Polly's crate downstairs and before bed, we put a warm cloth and our worn T-shirts in there with her and she settled right down. Tim let her out in the middle of the night with no problems, but this morning, another surprise. She's, uh, having some issues adjusting to her new food. We'll leave it at that. Tim got to give Polly her first bath at home!
Tim hopped in the shower to get ready for the day (her first appointment at the vet was at 8 a.m.), while I watched her, then we traded. But right before Tim was ready to leave, Frank puked on the carpet..... again. (By the way, we haven't had any issues with Frank since we FIRST brought him home to our apartment years ago).
Ah, gees.
I have to say, though, I am so proud of my husband. He's handled all of the gross stuff in stride, and just seems genuinely ecstatic to have the opportunity to take care of a dog (and weirdly-adjusting cat).
Here's to all the new adventures to come!
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