What a day for our little Hershey. First, she gets taken away from her mama and brothers and sisters. She has to ride in the car in a carrier and come into a new home—with a cat! Then there’s the new collar to wear that doesn’t come off no matter how long she scratches at it. And then the trip outside? On a winter night in the single digits? (Here’s my first tip for new puppy owners. If you live in a cold winter climate, you might think about waiting until spring to get your puppy. It’s not fun for anyone making 17 trips out into the cold each day; and its no easy feat bundling up to face the tundra quickly enough to make it out before the puppy piddles.)
But she’s home with us, and boy has life at our house been turned upside down. Every moment is spent watching the dog: is she chewing on the chair again? Is she peeing on the carpet again? Where’d she go? I’m exhausted, really.
It was fun over the weekend when we all got to take turns watching her and letting her outside and playing with her. It was enchanting to watch her check out her new digs, and try to make friends with the cat. We argued over lap time with her. We had a parade of friends and family stop by to check out our newest family member. And everyone agrees, she is adorable.
But once Monday rolled around and my kids went back to school and my husband went back to work, it was me and the dog and the cat. (They both like to sit on me at once, which is tough when there’s a laptop there, too.) It’s a full time job keeping an eye on her by myself.
I work from home as a writer and voice over artist, and as of this week, professional dog watcher. The way I see it, I’ve got three main duties right now: get her potty trained, get her crate trained, and keep her from chewing things she shouldn’t be chewing (which so far has included my laptop, my hair, my clothes, my fingers, the couch, the cat, her crate, army men, homework—really, books and dozens of other things I’ve already forgotten.) And I’m trying to do all this while narrating an audio book and recording commercials and finishing up my writing assignments. I’m so busy with all this, I keep forgetting to eat lunch, and have given up any hope of getting housework done for now.
I know, I know. I was warned: it is tough. People have always said bringing home a puppy is like bringing home a baby; well, they’re wrong. It’s like bringing home a mobile 18-month old child—who doesn’t wear diapers, and doesn’t understand your language. And Hershey’s let-me-out-of-this-crate-right-now cries are worse than any crying my children ever did in their cribs. Seriously, my ears rang the first night we had her in the crate. I think I got two hours sleep. And she makes so many different sounds: barks, whimpers, whines, warbles, grunts, groans, and this unusual purring-growl thing. It’s quite interesting. (Not at 3am, though.) I’m learning something new with this little pup everyday.
This is all much more than I imagined. I can’t believe word hasn’t gotten out about how hard it is to raise a puppy. (Although, it might explain some of the sniggering and widened eyes I saw from folks when I announced we were getting a puppy. I assumed they were all exaggerating. Nope.) You’d think maybe they’d come with a warning label: Caution! Your world will be flipped on its head if you bring me home.
It’s not all bad news. I have to admit the crate training is going better than expected. The first few nights were horrible. I slept on the couch while she slept in the crate. I stuck to my guns and ignored her, but I felt really awful doing it. The third night, I was too exhausted to listen to her cry five feet away, so I went upstairs to bed and listened to her cry from there. We woke up to find the crate—and the dog—covered in poop. Good times.
But after following advice to make the crate a fun place where she gets treats and gets to snuggle in a doggie bed, we’ve had some success. She slept for five hours straight the other night without crying or messing. I leave the crate door open and she goes in there sometimes during the day. (So does the cat, and sometimes my daughter.) Once I figured out Hershey was a little snuggle bug, things got easier. She needs to be on something or up against something when she sleeps. My foot is a favorite spot, even if I’m just standing still for a moment. She’ll scoot over and lay her head down. I got a doggie bed and a puppy warmer (a little microwavable pouch for her to snuggle against.) She loves it. I even brought down my daughter’s sound machine and turned on the sound of a beating heart. Turns out, she prefers the sound of the ocean. (Too much? I’ll do anything to get a good night’s sleep.) She’s not always perfect in the crate, though. Sometimes she whines and whimpers to get out. But we’re making progress. And to think I thought it was mean to crate a dog when I first heard about crates. That crate is my new best friend.
The potty training is tough. Really, really tough. That first night she whimpered when we took her out. (So did I! We had below zero wind chills.) I was worried she might never want to go out to do her business after an introduction like that. But she sure did learn how to run back to the house and climb the stairs. Probably the most fun thing about potty training is when you take the dog out, and they wait until they get back inside to go on the carpet. Or she does go outside, but then goes some more when she gets inside. My son won’t hold her because he’s afraid she’ll poop on him.
She does seem to understand when she pees outside she gets a treat. She gobbles it up, sits down and looks at me as if she’s trying to figure out what to do next to get another treat. But, it hasn’t connected enough yet for her to stop going inside, or dash to the door to let me know it’s time. And for some reason, pooping is just so much more enjoyable in the house. We haven’t had much success there.
Which leads me to the long list of questions I’m compiling about puppies. Will it poop in your lap? If you’re holding it in your arms, will it pee? Will her breath ever not stink? Why, oh why, did she just eat her own poop? (Now I know why her breath stinks.) And why is she looking at me like that?
I’m surprised this all seems so foreign to me. We had dogs growing up, but I wasn’t in charge of them and I don’t remember any crates or clickers or even any training, really, besides the potty business. So this is all new to me—especially since I swore I’d never get a dog. I never imagined I’d be doing this. I’m sure I’ll make some mistakes along the way. And I’m sure we’ll be left with another question: how could we ever live without her?
Related posts:
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – How Much is That Doggy in the Window?
- How to Safely Leave Your Puppy at Home in a Crate
