So, I’m driving home from the computer shop with a $180 repair job looming because Hershey shattered my laptop LCD screen, and I’m thinking, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Basically, all the voice work I’d done that morning will go to repair my computer screen. My work for the day is a total wash because of the dog.
This wouldn’t have happened two months ago when we didn’t have a dog.
I know there are dog owners who can handle anything. Dog owners who know that this is part of the deal. Dog owners who would scold me for not knowing what to expect with a puppy. Dog owners who would bristle at the mere thought of giving away a troublesome pet. Dog owners who would tell me to quit whining already!
But it’s very hard for me not to make a list of all the good things about her and compare it to all the many bad things she’s done since we got her: clothes ruined, furniture shredded, two laptops damaged, one laptop cord destroyed. I calculated the cost of having a dog to be certain we could afford it. I didn’t not factor in all of this collateral damage.
Waking me up twice a night to be let out isn’t helping either. I’m as tired and as crabby as when I had a newborn. Maybe if I were more rested, I’d be able to handle this better. Right now I just want to cry. I did cry, actually.
How do people handle the extreme disappointment when their dog does something really, really bad or damaging? In this case, I was working on my laptop when Hershey jumped onto the couch to chase the cat (like she’s not supposed to) knocking my other backup laptop off the end table (that one’s fine, thankfully.) I set down the laptop I was using to get her, and she ran across the screen. An expensive, naughty moment.
My kids have broken things over the years, nothing too expensive. And I always told them, People are more important than things! And I meant it, too. The kids never meant to break the things they did, and Hershey didn’t either. But Hershey’s damage ratio to the length of time we’ve had her is very, very high. And I haven’t seen any signs of improvement. Do we wait until she knocks over and breaks the flat screen TV? Do I just keep her in the crate all day where she can’t cause trouble? How do I put a stop to this? Is it even possible?
We’ve tried taking precautions. The kids have moved many of their toys to different rooms, because you certainly can’t build a Lego set with Hershey in the same room. So basically, the family has scattered to other parts of the house so Hershey won’t destroy their stuff. The family room has become the dog room; usually with just me and the dog in there. It makes me sad. I was hoping she’d bring our family together. That really hasn’t happened so far.
“I’m 95% sure I want to find her a new home,” I tell my husband when he wakes up for work after the laptop incident. (Notice I left myself some wiggle room.)
“You’re just mad right now.” (He’s a fountain of patience when it isn’t his stuff getting ruined.)
“Wouldn’t you be mad?” I ask. “At what point do we say we can’t handle this? If she’s out of the crate, I have to watch her every move or she’s getting in trouble. This is a hard way for me to live.”
“She’s a good dog. It’ll get better. That’s what puppies do. Abby chewed up our antique furniture and rugs,” he tells me.
Right now I’m so mad, I don’t want to look at her. And she knows I’m mad. She looks heartbroken that I’m ignoring her, which makes me feel bad and mad at the same time.
I know it could be worse. My cousin’s dog bit his daughter’s face—out of nowhere—forever physically scarring her. It is just a computer screen that was ruined. But it makes me wonder, what’s next? How many more things will be destroyed? What do I need to do to get her under control? I guess I’ve got to find an obedience class. But right now, I just feel totally defeated, like I made a really bad decision. This dog was supposed to bring joy and fun and love to the family. That has been overshadowed these days by all the bad stuff. Really, how do people handle this? Am I the only one unable to roll with these really tough puppy punches?
The following day
“I’ve got someone who will take your dog,” my sister-in-law said over the phone, two days after Hershey smashed my computer. (The same sister-in-law who gave away her Lab puppy—twice, and now loves him to death.) “I’m getting my hair done and my stylist would love another Lab. It would be a super good home for her, and she knows how to handle Labs.”
And I totally don’t.
I called my sister-in-law with my sob story right after we had that bad day of destruction. She knows the troubles I’ve been having with Hershey. But I did not feel relief when she told me she found a new home for my dog. Saying you’re 95% sure you want to get rid of your dog and actually facing the real option are two different things. “No, I can’t give her away. Pat won’t let me,” I said, blaming my husband.
“This offer won’t last long. It’s sort of now or never,” she said. (She should be in sales.)
I looked over at Hershey and her big amber eyes and cringed. “I can’t. She’s been better the past few days. It was just a bad day,” I said, hanging up before she could tell me more about the good home waiting for Hershey, and how much more peaceful my life would be.
But even before that phone call, it was hard to stay mad at Hershey for long after the destroying-of-the-computer screen. I was so upset I wouldn’t look at her or talk to her for the rest of that day. And it broke my heart to see how despondent she was that I was ignoring her.
How can a little creature love you so much that she’s heartbroken when you’re upset with her? She probably didn’t even know why I was mad at her. She was just a sad little puppy whose person was very displeased. That’s what did me in. I couldn’t bear to see her mournful eyes staring at me. (Maybe she was actually thinking mean thoughts, who knows.) But the next day, we made up. I got down on the floor with her and rubbed her belly and she was just so happy or the attention, that I felt bad for even being mad at her. She didn’t mean to break my computer screen. I just wish this whole puppy thing was easier, and that I was better at it than I am.
“Oh, dogs are hard,” my friend told me, after I shared my computer story at a party over the weekend. “I had to replace all of my wooden doors because of my Yorkie. And I still have to get up twice a night with her—and she’s eight years old.”
(That sent ice through my veins. No way, no how am I doing this for eight years.) “If they’re so hard, then why do so many people get them?” I asked. “Why didn’t anyone shake me and say no, no, no—don’t do it!”
She shrugged. “Because dogs are awesome. I love her so much.”
There’s probably a reason they have those big, soulful eyes. It gets them out of a lot of trouble, and keeps them in their home.
—————–
Have you missed any of the articles in this series?
If so, you can find them at:
The Bringing Up Puppy Series page.
Related posts:
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Second Thoughts
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – The Worst Lab
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Holding Tight
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Who is the Boss?
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Fairy Dog Mother – Part 2
