Saturday, July 13, 2013

Going to the Dogs

So we got this dog.

What on earth made me think that getting a puppy was a brilliant idea? I don't know, I think I was high lol. No I wasn't, but I definitely was not thinking clearly. The dudes and I were on our way home from bowling one day, and my stupid self says, "Hey, lets go stop at that pet store." (Next time I open my mouth before speaking, someone promise to wrap me up in duck tape and stick me in the closet.) There was this three month old silky terrier there that was so stinking cute, and we all fell in love! Even the hubs, who up until that point flat out, put foot down, refused to have a little dog, was ready to stick her in his jacket and take her home. This pet store however has a reputation from getting their puppies from puppy mills, and they wanted an arm, leg, and my first born for her, so we left empty handed.

Two days later, I'm Google searching puppy breeders,  and a week later, I'm picking up Bruno from the airport. (I am impulsive, I know)

Stinking cute right? He was this tiny, snuggly, freaking adorable little guy. We love him!

Until the potty training thing. Which means we could take him out all day, every day, and the little stinker still finds a way to pee and poop on our hard wood floors!

And the underwear biting thing. It's my underwear he likes to nibble on. Generally while I am wearing them.

And the brushing grooming thing. It is not ok for me, my hubs, the kids, or any two legged creature on earth to get near him with a brush. Or comb, Or shears. So he now looks a like a shag a monster. He has bangs that cover his eyes because he has tried to bite every groomer we have taken him too, and because of that, they will not give him a hair cut. I'm able to brush him, but it takes three of us, one holding him on a leash, one holding the bitter apple spray, and me frantically bobbing and weaving with the brush. Forget clippers tho.

And then there's the spazziness. All puppies are a little spazzy, no biggie. But apparently silky terrier's are spazzy for life. I don't know if I can accurately describe how spaztastic he is. Imagine a three year old toddler who hasn't napped in 3 days, who was just fed a bag of pixie sticks and let loose in Disney World. That kind of spazzy. Times 10.

He has wiggled his way into our hearts, and we all love him dearly. (Yes, even me, and even as I cuss him out with every curse word imaginable while I clean up his pee for the millionth time in a day after we just came in a from a walk.) And he is definitely part of our family, for better or worse. But sweet jesus, some days, I'm telling you, he may not make it to his first birthday!


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