So help me, Dog!

The unfortunate truth of the matter is, and there's a part of me that's almost ashamed to admit this, that I would give our boxer dog back to the breeder today.

I wanted a bigger dog than the over-sized white rat masquerading as our jack russell.  It took a long time for him to grow on me.  He was companion therapy for Amy while I was working eighty percent of each month 500 kilometres away from home.  So that was good.

Finally coming home full time created the need for some hierarchic readjustments in the Fraser household before I went the route that would have resulted in a mangled dog, divorce and jail time.

That's all water under the bridge and we've moved on.

We have not, however, learned.

When you want a second child in the family, and you have a walking toddler and a spastic jack russell terrier with obsessive compulsive disorder (or so suspects the vet, seriously), I don't recommend getting a new boxer puppy to add to the fray.  Especially considering how debilitating both the first and now the second pregnancies have been on Amy.

An ill-trained boxer pup, catalysing the situation and energy already inherent in a household containing a vigourous toddler and a neurotic jack russell (is that a redundant phrase?), and overseen by a mother who varies between somnolence and expectoration in her current state, is not a terribly welcome addition from the perspective of the father who comes home to the maelstrom that this scenario engenders.

I have come to terms with the fact that this makes me both a cad and a hypocrite.  And I have finally stopped suggesting, at every chance both opportune and inopportune, to my amazingly tolerant wife that we return the dog.  That has degenerated to steely glares exchanged between my wife and I when 'the puppy' has done something that would previously have spurred one of those suggestions.

I don't doubt that I will, in time and as she matures, probably come to appreciate the presence of our second dog.  In the meantime, I will stick by my conviction that we'd be better off RIGHT NOW without her.

And I am vastly amused at the fact that when the pup is sleeping peacefully during the day, Amy will take most of those opportunities to sit on, poke, prod, nudge, shake and just generally harass the dog:

"Were you sleeping?  Am I buggin' you?  Hey, Hey?  Can I poke you in the eye?  How do you like it, eh?"

I should have added another stanza to my poem of a couple days ago:

If doggie poo were kangaroo
We'd have to move down under;
For all that jumping in our yard
Would tear the fence asunder.

Comments

[Paula]

Even without seeing Amy's expression I'll bet she's thinking "Can't I just get five minutes of personal space?" And that's BEFORE baby #2 :)

[Jim (of Brazil)]

Simon,

I can really relate to your posts about your dogs ... I have one year-old labrador that is a constant challenge to my self control and self esteem. He is capable of making me act like a raving lunatic ... (which is probably not to far of a step from my normal situation ;-)

Anyway ... just commenting to say that I like your blog. Besides SoS, I'm a fellow GGK and SRD (Donaldson) fan.