This maniac goes by the name of Oliver. It’s been twelve years since we had a puppy around and the experience is eerily similar to having a baby. You forget how hard the first year is and decide to do it again. Sometimes more than once. Our old pup Colt headed to dog heaven two weeks ago after a long battle with stomach cancer and arthritis in his hips. It was one of the most difficult decisions we have made, but watching him struggle to get up the stairs and lose control of his bowels was heart wrenching and we knew it was time. My husband was with him as the vet placed the needle in his leg and he went to sleep for the last time. We all cried and reminisced about the dog who had seen both our kids come home from the hospital, licked their faces as they learned to crawl and taught us all about companionship. He will forever be in our hearts.
After a couple of weeks of coming home to a quiet house with no one meeting us at the door or licking up the extras from our meals, we knew we wanted another dog. We spent a few days researching breeds, checking the Humane Society website and looking at ads on KSL. My husband was drawn to pups who looked eerily similar to Colt and I wanted a small breed that wouldn’t shed as much and may have a longer life span. Twelve years may sound like a lot, but when it’s over and your furry friend isn’t there, you wonder why pups don’t live to the ripe old age of eighty.
We decided to check out two pups last Saturday and bring one of them home. The first stop was to see some tiny little guys who were a crazy mix of twelve different breeds and could fit in the palm of your hand. In the picture, I was sure this was the pup for us, they were black and white and the owner had done a great job at painting a rosy picture of the puppies situation. However, when we got there, the vibe wasn’t right and even after holding them, we didn’t think we would be back for the little guys. They were clearly being sold too early and at six weeks, they needed their momma more than they needed to be shoved off to new owners. The next stop was just a few miles down the road to see a hound dog who had been adopted, but couldn’t stay with the family due to pet restrictions in their city. When this little fur ball came bounding up to us, I couldn’t imagine leaving without him. He took to us right away and the owner was thrilled to have found a family who could love and care for the pup that she was unable to care for.
As you can see, he has the sweetest eyes and a set of Dumbo ears that are great at hiding what a little shit burglar he really is. He chews on everything, pees at random and prefers to shit on the deck because his tender little paws don’t like wet grass. His stance is deceiving and he constantly looks like he needs to take a dump. I spend my days following him around watching his butthole for just the right pucker, so I can scoop him up before anything lands on the carpet. It’s worse than potty training a kid. He can’t be left alone without being roped in one particular room and the makeshift baby gates I am using look more like a tornado came through and upturned coffee tables and couch cushions. There is a litter box he wants to eat out of, couches to chew and shoes that he pulls under the dining room table to gnaw on while avoiding our watchful eyes. We are all exhausted and thoroughly in love. He sleeps in between my husband and I, sometimes with his entire body covering my head. He has that new puppy smell that is more delicious than any new car smell that I have ever encountered. The best part is that he’s teaching us all a lesson about life….when one love leaves there is always more love around the corner.