I’m picking poo off the ground. Clawing and grabbing at the grass. Wondering where it all went wrong.
“It’s such hard work”
“It’s unrelenting. “
“The barking gets worse. It took a year to break one of the bad habits.”
“Don’t do it. It’s like another child“
This advice from my so-called mates. AFTER we got the dog.
My wife and two boys have been desperate for a dog for years. I’ve been equally resistant.
I’m not a dog person. I grew up around them. But we never had one. I’m just not into it. I can’t see the appeal.
“Aaaw but they are so cute and cuddly….aaw just look at them…..great for the kids…..aawww….A friend for life……someone that will always be pleased to see you……they bring so much joy and pleasure to a family…aaaaawwwww…..aaaaaawww”
Nope. I’m cold. I've got enough going on. I don't need the extra hassle.
The dog conversation went on for years. I could not be swayed. I told them it was the dog or me. They discussed breeds.
“Dad I will do everything. Please Dad can we get a dog. I will walk it and clean up after it all the time. I promise Dad, I P-r-o-m-i-s-e. You won’t have to do a thing. Can we Dad, can we?”
“No. I know you don’t mean it, even if you don’t.”
But after many years and as the boys became more self-sufficient I started entertaining the idea. I had to get my head around the fact that I would be doing everything. To expect nothing. That way I wouldn’t be disappointed about the lack of help I was promised.
I know nothing about dogs. But I had two conditions.
1. You couldn’t ride the fucking thing. Some are huge.
2. It didn’t have a reputation for eating children.
My wife wanted a schnauzer. Her parents have one. But it sounds like a German tank and it tries to take chunks out of me. Nein to the schnauzer.
Another friend has a puppy. Their 2 year old was sticking it’s fingers in places it shouldn’t and wrestling it to within an inch of it’s life. I liked this fluffy thing. It kept coming back for more. This was a cute wee child friendly family dog. Turned out to be a Cavoodle. Half Cav half Oodle. I found my breed.
I started to imagine the dog in our house, sitting quietly on my lap as I worked in my office, taking it out for walks in the evening, lying together quietly watching TV. We play on the beach together throwing balls and sticks, the family run hand in hand along the sand as we laugh out loud. The sun shining. Life is good.
The family agreed. The hunt was on. We found our breeder. Did the appropriate research. Bought the relevant condiments that accompany a dish of this kind. The bed, the leash, the toys, the scented training pads (really??), the poo bags, the treats, the bags of food, the chicken necks (gross), the blankets, the bowls and the bag of grass. (That was for my nerves.)