Happy adoption anniversary! (Aka: we adopted two puppies and survived.)
“If we only had one, we’d have a halfway decent dog by now,” Mr. T grumbled.
“Oh yeah? Well which one would you have chosen? Who would you give back now?” I challenged, thinking I could not imagine life without our wonderful, happy-go-lucky, kinda dumb but so damn sweet Walter. And then I thought about sly Clyde, the smart, feisty, troublemaker with a tender heart and eyes that must see into your soul. I couldn’t choose then and I couldn’t now either.
This refrain passed between us many times over the last year that we raised two pups. (Yes, two puppies. We’re crazy like that. See the details of that genius decision here.) SO many times when we managed the long road of house training (almost there, Walter!), teaching commands, dealing with chew stages and fear stages and hormone changes, the crate training, digging up of plants, the eating of carpet… times two!
It’s been a wild year watching two puppies grow and change. A week after we brought them home from the rescue, I spent an evening reading about the perils of adopting litter-mates and the oodles of extra work required to keep them from fighting or bonding only with each other. It scared the crap out of me. But as the boys get older, I find myself thinking “What have we done?!” less and less.
Happily, a year on, they get along well, display distinct and fun personalities, and have definitely bonded with us. But you wouldn’t know that because in the last year, I’ve only written about them twice. Twice! With my blogger head hung in shame, I’ll make up for it by offering a year’s worth of memories in one post. Muah ha ha ha.
Now, midway through this post, about 200 pictures in, you might be thinking “Wow, she’s really turned into one of those dog mom types.” And I’ll have to own that because there’s little evidence to the contrary. BUT. We endeavor to keep a four-on-the-floor policy (seriously Clyde, get off the damn couch) and there is not, nor will there ever be any dogs in bed. Ahem.