why puppies don’t do home renos

As you may remember, we have a puppy – Abby- and having her comes with plenty of joy, and equal measure challenges. As a half joke and half help, my aunt actually sent us the mini guide to Puppy Care For Dummies® (which I thought was a. hysterical and b. actually helpful). The poor little girl seems to have terrible separation anxiety. Whenever we put her in her crate to leave for work or errands, she barks and salivates so much that she ends up covered in her own saliva from her chest all the way down to her front paws. You would think she was showering while we were gone. And we’re talking after 4 hours, after 2 hours, after 20 minutes… it doesn’t matter. Equal saliva/drool/chaos puppy.

happy puppy

happy puppy

So recently we tried a new way to confine her while we’re gone. We decided to loop her leash  – about 4 feet long – around the metal support pole in our basement so she could walk around a little bit but not get away short of gnawing the leash off or pulling over the support pole holding up the house. Both seemed unlikely, and in the week prior she had actually ESCAPED from her cage by getting the latch to pop up. So on the 24th, I put her around the pole, double checked that there was nothing she could reach and get hurt with, and went to an evening event for work dressed in my little heels and cute dress.

About four hours later, I came home, all excited to see my baby, and open the basement door. And see this nothing but a sea of white. White puppy, white floor. Both floor and puppy were previously gray.

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**BEFORE YOU SEND HATE MAIL** This was the next day when the paint was dry. See her sit like a good little girl?

Guess who got a can of paint (mostly used THANKFULLY) off the stairs and decided that she didn’t like the floor color? THIS DOG. Needless to say I have never kicked off high heels and ran down my basement steps quicker. You can tell EXACTLY where we ran on the way up.

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And where she paced by the back door as I grabbed her by the collar, ran outside, hooked her up the lead, and then hosed her down.

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A frantic call to Animal Poison Control and 10 minutes later, I realized that because of the kind of paint it was she would be absolutely fine, and proceeded to give her a thirty minute bath (mind you… still in my dress).  I did learn four valuable things.

1. Keep the number to Animal Poison Control handy. They are ridiculously helpful and the woman on the phone was EXTREMELY patient with me as I sobbed and told her I feel like the worst pet owner ever.

2. When trying to make a puppy free zone, take into account that, in my case, MY PUPPY HAS FREAKISHLY LONG LEGS. (Over 10 inches to be exact)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA3. Puppies find tape measures VERY amusing.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA4. Puppies SUCK at painting. See all the spots she missed?? Her technique is just way off.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI also learned that I am not the worst pet owner ever, because the only thing she was upset about the whole time was that I wouldn’t allow her to jump on me because I was still wearing my dress. Miraculously? NOT A DRIP OF PAINT ON IT. How I managed that I still don’t know. And the helpful thing? She created a radius for us so that now we know EXACTLY HOW FAR she can get.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI guess I won’t be priming anything anytime soon. But hey… now I have a free DIY design on my floor. Thanks, Abby. Always thinking of us.

Oh and by the way? My aunt thinks she bought us the wrong book. She’s now looking for one called Puppies for Morons.

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two weeks of charity

It’s hard to believe it’s been two weeks. Two crazy weeks without posts, two crazy weeks of readjusting my sleep schedule and work schedule. Two weeks of learning to function around the house differently and get laundry done and worrying about whether there is enough water. Two weeks of panicking whether I  closed the gate or where the cats are or how long it has been since the last meal.

On April 23rd, the Man and I fell in love with her picture on line, and filled out an adoption application to Lulu’s Rescue. On the 24th, they called us for a phone interview, then called our friends for references. On the morning of the 25th, we were told she was ours. Her name was Charity.

Charity

We had been planning for a puppy for a while. I scoured CraigsList for dog crates and baby gates and an outside fencing system while the Man scoured the internet, talking to rescues, and sending me profiles. We knew we wanted a puppy if possible because of the cats. What we didn’t expect was a Labrador and Grreat Dane mix with the most soulful eyes and spotted belly and intelligence that will get us in trouble down the line.

On the 27th, my stomach in knots, we drove to New Jersey to pick her up. The entire time I panicked, wondering what would happen if she didn’t love me as much as I was already in love with her. What if the cats hated us for bringing her into our home? What if she didn’t like the food I had bought? What if she was horrible in the car and couldn’t go places with us?

puppy prepping

puppy prepping

We didn’t have to worry about any of that. From the minute the Man picked her up in his arms, I knew I had nothing to worry about other than what we were changing her name to. The first three nights having her, I was terrified I would never sleep again. She cried in her crate (duh, she’s a puppy) but the Man pulled out his sleeping mat and laid on the floor next to the crate for three nights. On night four, I was picky and wanted to sleep in the bed with my husband, and lo and behold, after 20 minutes, silence.

And in the two whirlwind weeks since, she has been on multiple car rides, we’ve gone to visit the Man for his dinner breaks and she was “big girl on campus”, greeting all the students and generally being delightful. She was the prime attraction at our yard sale just a week after getting her, with no annoying barking or unnecessary jumping on all the people that came to great her. And this past weekend she went on her longest car ride yet, all the way to Long Island, to visit Grandma for Mother’s Day (and got spoiled). She doesn’t beg when you eat dinner, she doesn’t pull on the leash, and best of all, she gives the sweetest kisses in the world.

Now I’m becoming a bit of a morning person but that’s okay. And I’m starting to take an evening nap (she does, so I have to right?) which is totally fine too. I just know, considering she’s already put on 3 pounds since we got her, that I need to cherish this time where I can still scoop her up in my arms and have her nap on my chest.

So, my dear readers, please welcome our 13 week old, 16 pound (and growing… fast!) Abigail Charity. You can call her Abby for short.

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