This Thing Called Love

We adopted a new puppy. I know what you’re thinking. Exhausting, right?  Nine days into this, I keep asking myself, What were you thinking!?  Like most puppies, she is a ball of energy that seems to waiver between adorable one minute and hell-bent on relieving herself every other minute. Inside the house.  (Sigh.)  

I found it a little comical when we took her to the vet yesterday and the vet asked, “How long have you had her?” My husband started to answer, “about two weeks.” One week, Honey. One LLLLLOOOONNNNGGG tiring week that feels like a month. Seven solid days of waking up to find a cute dog that relieved herself too many times in a crate, needing a bath. At 6 am. Outside. Every. Single. Morning. That comes with the added joy of cleaning the cage, mopping/bleaching the kitchen floor, etc. All before breakfast.  Work days are especially fun (considering you have to add this new routine into the existing one). 

But then that little puppy (Abbie) curls up in a ball at your feet with her tiny white belly exposed and snores, casting her magic spell and you remember that this, too, shall pass.

We’ve been through this before. In our 22 years of marriage, we’ve had dogs, cats, a baby and grandbabies. We (mostly) knew what to expect. But then something really UNEXPECTED happened with Abbie. She attached herself to Tom … and he attached himself to her.

Let me explain why this is odd. My husband is former Army. He’s a hardworking, blue collar guy. In the past, he was ambivalent about our pets. They were pretty much my responsibility. He was NOT at all likely to clean up after them.  But there is something about Abbie that has him wrapped around her little paw … from the moment he met her. She jumped up on his lap at the pet store and acted as if she'd finally rediscovered the mother ship. Or the father ship, in this case.

He talks to her in a sweet little voice and calls her “baby.” (Shhhh. Don’t tell him I told you.) He lets her sleep on his lap on the (once) forbidden-to-pets sofa. And he carries her everywhere.

Yesterday, we ventured out to the local farmer’s market with Abbie. Tom carried her around under his arm, enjoying a great deal of attention from fellow shoppers who came up to see her and to chat with him. At one point, I looked up from shopping for veggies and was overwhelmed with love for him. His smile was a mile wide. He was beaming with pride over this puppy—who was forcing him out of his normally shy, comfort zone.  “I like our town and the people here,” he said, as if we’d just moved here. In fact, he'd just overcome his shyness to meet a few of them. He was happy. I was happy.

Suddenly, the ongoing stresses of overdue bills, jobs, car issues, house projects and all the petty stuff that weighs us down on a daily basis had been pushed aside, all because of a tiny little corgi toddler with a big attitude and big brown eyes.  We were living in the moment, grateful for this tiny creature and life, in general. Who could’ve imagined?

Turns out old dogs can learn new tricks. :)