The Failed Perfectionist

Technically, it was just one dog.  And it’s moments like these that make me question why I must constantly test my limits in the most painful ways possible.  If you haven’t heard, I went out and adopted a dog yesterday.  The past 28 hours have been both good and bad, but what I’ve learned is that I am empathetically NOT a dog person.  Perhaps this would not be the case if I had a partner with whom to share the doggy attention.  And in defense of the dog, I could not ask for a smarter better behaved puppy.  Emphasis on the word puppy.  At 4 months old, the sign on the shelter door saying “I am a mouthy puppy and should only go to an experienced owner” should have been a sign.  But no, I say, I want a puppy.  One without as many bad habits who is eager to train.  So after a flurry of pet-related purchases, I pick up the dog.  Everything is going fine, even a fairly calm ride home in the car.  I do have second thoughts about the drool on the leather interior, but think to myself that I should get used to it as a newly minted dog owner.  Ditto to the muddy paw prints instantly decorating the kitchen and living room floor.   First things first, we get fido, (whose name has been changed to protect his identity) introduced to the crate and food area.  All things good.  Then the puppy remembers that it’s a puppy, and loses all interest in the carefully purchased toys in favor of destroying everything else in reach.  (In my defense, I thought I had puppy-proofed everything of value and cleared everything that was lying around.)  Puppy immediately latches onto my new universal remote.  Very adorable, but not enough to give over the remote.  I manage to wrestle the remote away from the puppy, and get puppy out the door.  Walkies!  This part isn’t actually so bad, except for some minor pulling.  Puppy is very happy to be bribed with treats every time we stop.  Puppy is in fact now expecting me to pull out treats every time he sits down and looks up expectantly.  Very cute, but ultimately unsupportable as I run out of treats on our way home.  So the new fun game is chew the leash and try to jump up on andrea.  I even manage to outsmart him here by shortening up the lead and picking up speed.  Back home, the fenced backyard seems like a treat, except for the fact that a neighbors tree has been dropping apples and puppy prefers rotten fruit, sticks, and sycamore balls to the actual toys.  I’m unsure whether actually eating sticks is good, but can’t seem to get them all away in time.  So it’s back into the house (after some dramatics getting up the half-flight of stairs), where all puppy wants to do is jump all over me.  crate time.  And then I’m out like a light only to wake up to squeaky toy noises at midnight.  Day two proceeds much the same, although we master stairs and manage to meet a couple of neighbors on the three walks.  Currently puppy is snoring loudly in his crate.  I’m off this emotional roller coaster tomorrow when I will sadly take fido back to the humane society.  There’s no way I can support this level of energy for another two years (assuming puppy isn’t just naturally rambunctious).  That’s a cop-out way of saying this is making me miserable, and even with extensive training, I’m not willing to give up my entire house to dog-life.  I’m a cat person.  I like that the cat ignores me most of the time and is needy only about 5% of the day (mostly when the food is out).  Did I mention that the dog seems to think the cat is a life-size chaseable toy?  Cat has been hiding in the basement because the cat-food in the kitchen got eaten by the puppy.  I’m on a major guilt trip for this one.  I’ve been saying for a year how great it would be to get a house and a dog, but when it comes right down to it, my life is pretty great as it is.  Any comments from the universe?  I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing, but anything has to be better than having a latchkey dog that spends 8 hours in a crate or at daycare…..