DUKE!

I haven't blogged in ages, which is due in part to big kids who don't want me to share the hilarious things they (still) say and do.  The other part, of late, is because we temporarily lost our minds and listened to our children.  We gave them what they asked for, and now we are unable to do anything else, including, but not limited to: showering, sitting on the couch, using the bathroom, unloading the dishwasher, going upstairs, having people over in a peaceful manner, and generally living a calm lifestyle.

You guessed it!  We got a dog!  Even worse - a puppy!  Ever since we lost our very best bad boy, Shadow, the kids have been begging for a new dog.  Our youngest daughter, who is shockingly 13 years old, was the most tenacious.  She checked petfinder day and night for new listings that met good ol' mom's rigorous criteria (no shedding, no puppy, housebroken, well-behaved, cute and fluffy, and not too expensive).  She showed me countless listings over the course of a few months, and either we inquired and never heard back, or I rejected her choices (re: my Very Important List).  

Until she showed me a listing for a black, fluffly schnoodle.  First red flag:  PUPPY.  He was a 7 month old puppy, but housebroken.  The biggest reason we didn't want a puppy was because we don't have the time to train one.  But since this one was housebroken, I thought maybe he might be ok.  I emailed the shelter for more information and the next morning (Saturday), I had a reply that we could have a meet and greet that day! It suddenly felt more real. . . and on the way over to the shelter, I prepped my daughter.  "He is going to be adorable. We cannot make this decision based on his cuteness.  If he's crazy or badly behaved, he won't be for us. You must be mature about this."  

Our first meeting with Duke was like this:  A tall, 35 pound blur of black fur zoomed into the meet and greet room, peeing all the way.  Red flags two and three: WILD AND NOT HOUSEBROKEN?? We headed outside with the worker (who was great) so that he could pee out there (all told, he peed 3-4 times during our meet and greet).  And while we talked to her, he ran around the small area like a maniac, jumping up on us and the table and zooming in and out of our legs.  The whole visit lasted a half hour and he never got still even once.

To everyone's complete shock (including several of the children), we got the dog a week later.  And it's been. . .hard.  And fun, and rewarding, but also challenging.  He is the cutest boy, and sometimes sweet and cuddly.  But has has been very prone to nipping and barking and chewing anything and everything (he might be part goat).  He is a puppy, so almost all of these things can be chalked up to his age, which we know.  I am taking him to training classes, and we are all working with him.  He's a smart boy, so I am thinking we'll probably all make it through the puppy stage alive.  Hopefully.

So.  Here it is for posterity, in the annals of our family history. We got a dog.  A puppy.  And after a month and a half, we are still standing, albeit in a slightly more guarded manner.   He's cute, he's sometimes sweet and we can see glimmers of the calm boy he'll be in a year or so (a YEAR.  sigh.).  

A few notes about this picture.  See the spot on the piping just behind Duke's head?  Yep - that's where he chewed the couch and pulled some of it apart.  Also, the pillow he is resting his cute head on (as well as almost every other throw pillow we possess) has chewed corners.