It is hard to believe that we are almost three weeks into the new adventure of owning a dog. Three weeks ago I could wander about the house without fear of stepping in warm piles of puppy love. Three weeks ago I didn’t worry about making sure that my schedule allowed for time to play with seven pounds of black furry love.
Seven pounds of black furry love has his moments. The silent ninja who preys upon the weak and unprotected baby dolls that lie helpless. He pounces upon them and savages their bodies with reckless abandon. And if you catch him in the midst of his murderous act he looks up at you with sad puppy dog eyes that suggest that you are the one who are at fault. You knew that he is a baby. You knew that he searches for objects to make his sore gums feel better even though you have purchased toys that are his.
Seven pounds of black furry love is slowly learning that there are places for relieving himself that do not resemble tile or hardwood floors. He already recognizes that his crate is best used as his private resort and as such cannot be sullied by such things.
Slowly but surely he is training you to recognize the signs. He runs to the door and looks outside, sometimes he indicates his need and desire with a soft whimper, sometimes silence. Sometimes all you can do is open the door and wait to see if he goes bounding outside and down the stairs.
The children, those that walk upright are learning that it is not all fun and games to have a dog.They have seen his handiwork and have learned that taking care of him is a family responsibility. I intentionally don’t take him out when they are home. It is good for them to take care of this, to see first hand what it takes.
It is good for all of them. Together they are learning. Together they are learning about life, about love and what it means to care for someone who isn’t quite capable of doing it on their own.
It is a beautiful thing to watch.