To sleep, perchance to... sleep

Apparently, the best way to keep a yappy and intrusive puppy quiet and out of one's proverbial hair at night is NOT to put her undersized kennel in the spare room, close the door, affix her with a barking collar that administers euphemistic 'Static Corrections' and hope like hell she'll shut up for more than half a freakin' hour so you can get some shut-eye.

One does what one can in order that one's pregnant wife gets as much sleep as possible during this important gestation phase.

A cold nose in the armpit at three in the morning, every morning, is not conducive to this.

And so the kennel and the spare room and the collar and the incessant...

continuous...

pained...

lonesome...

loud...

BARKING!

All

Night.

All

Week.

A part of me feels really bad about this.  I start to think how I would like it if I were only five months old and locked in a small cage behind the closed door of a dark room with a collar on that administered a 'static correction' every time I called out with a forlorn plea to the ones who allegedly love me and who put me in this small cage in a dark room...

I'd probably pee my bed the first night, too.

One knows that one must do something different when one's wife turns over in bed and regards one by the dim glare of the street light filtering through the blinds at three in the morning with a not-so-dim glare of her own.

I am the MAN of the house!

There is a problem presented by this situation, and as any good man and husband knows, it is his sworn and solemn duty to take all problems by the scruff of the neck, wrangle them into submission and send them off beaten, bloody, battered and irrefutably solved.  A dusting of the hands and a jerk of the head to indicate that it was nothing more than the fulfilment of one's duty.

So, to assuage my guilt and fulfil my duty, the collar went back to the pet store.  "Keep that packaging and the receipt, Simon," Amy said on Monday.  "You know, just in case."  I picked up a larger kennel, a buncha yummy, liver-flavoured treats and a new squeaky chew toy.  With the exchange, it was almost a wash.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the ALARM.  (Other than the fact that I set my alarm to go to work on a Saturday morning, I was inordinately pleased at this.)

The puppy had, apparently, taken to her new kennel rather nicely.  And the rest of the house had slept right through the night.

I may yet, in time, come to like her.

Comments

[Chris]

What a gorgeous little pup! We had a very difficult time raising our second weimaraner. He destroyed carpeting on all 3 levels of our house, ate drywall, and destroyed a door.....he had severe separation anxiety. I feel your pain, brotha!

[Jenn]

If the job doesn't work out, you can always be a pet photographer. That is one cute photo. Um, and the pup's cute too, really cute. Sorry to have to reiterate that, but she really is. Don't beat her. Pretend you're with Greenpeace and she's a baby harp seal.

[Marc]

A ticking click in the puppy's kennel or basket also seems to work effectively in quieting down a puppy...

[Tina]

Problem solved ...good for you !!