Saturday, November 29, 2014

A post about what's-his-name

Of course he's adorable.

People keep asking me if I just love my new puppy. And the honest answer is no, I do not love my new puppy. In fact it's probably a good thing his breeder lives 3 hours away, because right now, as I'm writing this, I would give him back to her and never regret it. As I write this he's howling and whining in an old playpen, where he has a cozy bed and toys and all the accouterments of a lovely dog apartment. And yet ....

He is not happy. He would only be happy if he had the entire run of the house, so he could chew on my laptop cords and pee and poop on the floors and chew on the furniture and the carpets and anything else he can get his needly little teeth into. He's fine in my big kitchen as long as the gate isn't across the door. Once the gate goes up, he's a whining, howling, writhing mess, throwing himself at the gate in an agony of abandonment. Even if he can see me right next to him. Especially if he can see an entire roomful of people eating Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm fucking exhausted. I haven't gotten more than 2 hours of continuous sleep since Tuesday night when I got 5. Human infants are easier than this puppy, and I've raised both.

An example: Tonight Doc/Shade/Poe (I can't decide on a name. More on that later) had been sleeping under the coffee table for a couple of hours. I got him up to go out, and so he wouldn't sleep while I was awake and howl while I was trying to sleep. I carried him outside, because he will stop and pee on the floor on his way to go out. He peed. I praised. We came in and played for a while. Then about 12 minutes after he'd peed outside, he peed on the living room rug. We had words and he went out again. He came in again, we played, and 10 minutes after he'd gone out the second time, he peed on the living room rug again. He went back out. This, to me, is an excessive amount of peeing, and it's also typical, so far.

I hate to admit it, but when Drake came home a few minutes after the 8th in-house pee (in spite of at least 15 trips outside), I was in tears. It doesn't help that I haven't left my house since Tuesday night, except to take the puppy on a couple of walks. I don't do so well when I spend so much time alone ... or with a peeing, howling puppy. In fact, I'm feeling a bit stabbity. I know why I wanted a dog. I can't remember why I wanted a puppy. I want to skip ahead a year to the dog I will -- whether he likes it or not -- be living with then.

Hard to believe they'll be the same
size in a year or so.
As for his name, I was certain Doc was the name. Positive. Ask Coraline, who is just as fixed on LuLu. It turns out Doc isn't going to work. It's too close to Duke, my son Drake's dog, and he's confused whenever I call the puppy. So I've been experimenting with new names. My Facebook friends gave me lots of suggestions. Yesterday I decided his name would be Shade ... but he didn't really respond to that name. and the s and a were too drawn out. So I tried Cash (the man in black) and Poe (as in Edgar Allan) and Redmond (my boyfriend James Spader's character on Black List). He seems to like Poe best, so for now, Poe it is.

I know this is the most difficult time with a dog ... at least until the end. If I weren't so fucking tired, I'd take it all in stride, but this little guy is particularly persistent. Even in this big house, I can't put him far enough away that I can't hear the howling, with ear plugs. He's loud. Really fucking loud. And he's in a playpen right beside my bed where he can see and hear me. It's not like he's alone.

Look who's whining now.

A year from now, I'm sure if I write about Poe the story will be much different. It had better be. He's already doing better than I'd expect on the leash, and he fetched the ball and brought it back to me several times. He's even learning to shake already. He's not dumb. He's just loud and stubborn.

Guess what. I'm a redhead. Enough said.

No, I'm not enjoying my new puppy much right now, but this too will pass. Please, dear sweet baby Jesus, let this too pass before I lose my poor exhausted mind.


  1. Replies
    1. You know what's funny? When my son came home and I was having my little meltdown, I said at least I didn't get a cat. That's the one thing that could make this worse. I like cats, but I can't live with them.