Growing up I was totally clueless about dogs. Like every other nine year old boy on the planet, I wanted a dog, but we never got one. My parents opted for a more low maintenance option. A cat.
When I got out on my own in college I briefly entertained the idea of getting a Pug. I had a romanticized idea about how great it would be to drive across America in my car and to have my faithful, furry companion there with me sticking his head out the window, enjoying the breeze as we drove off into the sunset. That never happened either.
Reality quickly set in and I realized that my lifestyle was not conducive to a dog. I went out of town too much, and wasn’t home enough when I was in town. In addition, finding an apartment is tough enough without the variable of owning a dog.
Fortunately I was also smart enough to know that reality probably would be much different from my daydreams. One thing I knew for sure: they seemed to bark a lot and sounded (not just from barking, but from other people) like a lot of work.
My wife, however, is the epitome of a dog-lover. After much heated debate discussing the “dog question” during our courtship process, she reluctantly agreed to a dog-free household… At least that’s how I remember it happening. She has a different take on that story.
A few months into our marriage she was missing having a dog around and began to say so…frequently. Though stone-walling her suggestion for the first few months, I eventually decided to say “yes” to her emotional requests and beautiful pleading eyes. So we drove to the animal shelter and got Riley.
It has been a sacrifice. In the early stages Riley barked all night and totally messed up my sleep on several occasions. She was the most adorable puppy at 2 months old and only 7 pounds, but she apparently also had a bladder the size of an acorn! She needed to pee about every 10 minutes (which wasn’t always outside the house, much to her owners chagrin!)
She went through an incredible chewing phase in which she seemed to destroy bone after bone, toy after toy, as well as the occasional piece of clothing that was accidentally left on the floor.
She proceeded into her digging stage. (We still have pot holes in the back yard.)
And from there into her pulling-the-coffee-grounds-out-of -the-trash-can phase…
And here we are 9 months later, into our dog owning experience.
My life has felt like a scene from Marley and Me on occasion, (and I am not as phlegmatic about our dog destroying stuff as that family was!) Nevertheless, I have been glad to show sacrificial love to my wife.
And, while I may regret saying this tomorrow when Riley does something destructive or irritating, I think the pooch is growing on me too.