Puppy is great than or equal to a baby
So I got a new puppy recently which normally would be awesome except apparently my dog was born in a crack house and he somehow still has a supply with him, I don't even KNOW.
Right now he is running around the house at high speeds, jumping up on the couch, only to stop to try and chew it apart. at to bark at his tail and then down at the monsters he thinks lives in the basement. Normally I would be worried but he hasn't tipped over any of the lamps yet and in five seconds he will pass out (as if on clue he's not sleeping on the top of the stairs after taking one more jump on furniture run)
So my puppy is only a couple of months old, not even six. I'm not really sure how old he is because he doesn't have a fucking awesome birthday like my last dog (the 4th of July) so I don't know it yet.
So basically he's a baby puppy as my S-Mom likes to call him. Which basically fits because all he does is eats, makes a mess, chews and slobbers on things, poops (inside or outside, doesn't really matter to him all the time) and he needs attention ALL THE FUCKING TIME!
I'm not even kidding. I've been waking up at 8 every single day for the past couple of weeks (even when I don't have class or school) because if the dog is left alone he either
1. Barks and chews on things
2. Channels his inner demon and DESTROYS the kitchen.
The barking is because the dog has no object permanence. Seriously, if he is in the kitchen and you go upstairs he will *freak out* because you are no longer there. This means that I have to take the dog into the bathroom when I'm shower or he will bark and wake my slumbering sister up which is great for my sister and the puppy but sucks for me because the puppy's favorite thing to eat is grout and tiles so my bathroom floor is slowly disappearing.
So my whole life is now watching the dog, work , and trying to do school work while stopping to yell at the dog to stop ripping the wall paper off the wall (this really happened. The dog ripped my Granny's wallpaper that she had imported from Scotland off the wall).
I noticed today that I always have things in my pockets. Pockets are awesome. I am pro pockets. For example, today at work I had a walkie talkie, a highlighter, a pen, and some scrap pieces of papers in my pocket. When I was in high school I would always have little scraps of paper in my pocket with random little cryptic notes that seemed VITALLY IMPORTANT when I was writing them but now make no sense. Now the stuff in my pockets mainly contain things that I have taken out of Wilson's mouth. Like today, I had some pieces of soggy string, and three pieces of sticks.
The string is from the toy that I bought him this week. It was a cow, with a cute head, a rope to the body which had not 1, not 2, but 10 squeakers!! (my family is obsessed with squeaking toys because previous toy was scared of them) and then another rope for the rail. Today he chewed off the head so now there is just a random cow head that he keeps moving so it pops up in random spots *watching* me. And he just chewed off the tail as well so he is just carrying around a cow body which is just weird.
I've also noticed through watching the puppy that I'm probably going to be an awful parent. Before I was all like, I am going to be the BEST PARENT EVER! I WILL SUPPORT THEIR FEELING AND WE WILL HAVE OPEN COMMUNICATION!! I AM AN AMAZING SOCIAL WORKER!!!
But now I realized I will be that scary parent who is always screaming at her children.
Anyway, How I Met Your Mother is On, and I have a disc of Big Bang to watch.
Peace out.
Right now he is running around the house at high speeds, jumping up on the couch, only to stop to try and chew it apart. at to bark at his tail and then down at the monsters he thinks lives in the basement. Normally I would be worried but he hasn't tipped over any of the lamps yet and in five seconds he will pass out (as if on clue he's not sleeping on the top of the stairs after taking one more jump on furniture run)
So my puppy is only a couple of months old, not even six. I'm not really sure how old he is because he doesn't have a fucking awesome birthday like my last dog (the 4th of July) so I don't know it yet.
So basically he's a baby puppy as my S-Mom likes to call him. Which basically fits because all he does is eats, makes a mess, chews and slobbers on things, poops (inside or outside, doesn't really matter to him all the time) and he needs attention ALL THE FUCKING TIME!
I'm not even kidding. I've been waking up at 8 every single day for the past couple of weeks (even when I don't have class or school) because if the dog is left alone he either
1. Barks and chews on things
2. Channels his inner demon and DESTROYS the kitchen.
The barking is because the dog has no object permanence. Seriously, if he is in the kitchen and you go upstairs he will *freak out* because you are no longer there. This means that I have to take the dog into the bathroom when I'm shower or he will bark and wake my slumbering sister up which is great for my sister and the puppy but sucks for me because the puppy's favorite thing to eat is grout and tiles so my bathroom floor is slowly disappearing.
So my whole life is now watching the dog, work , and trying to do school work while stopping to yell at the dog to stop ripping the wall paper off the wall (this really happened. The dog ripped my Granny's wallpaper that she had imported from Scotland off the wall).
I noticed today that I always have things in my pockets. Pockets are awesome. I am pro pockets. For example, today at work I had a walkie talkie, a highlighter, a pen, and some scrap pieces of papers in my pocket. When I was in high school I would always have little scraps of paper in my pocket with random little cryptic notes that seemed VITALLY IMPORTANT when I was writing them but now make no sense. Now the stuff in my pockets mainly contain things that I have taken out of Wilson's mouth. Like today, I had some pieces of soggy string, and three pieces of sticks.
The string is from the toy that I bought him this week. It was a cow, with a cute head, a rope to the body which had not 1, not 2, but 10 squeakers!! (my family is obsessed with squeaking toys because previous toy was scared of them) and then another rope for the rail. Today he chewed off the head so now there is just a random cow head that he keeps moving so it pops up in random spots *watching* me. And he just chewed off the tail as well so he is just carrying around a cow body which is just weird.
I've also noticed through watching the puppy that I'm probably going to be an awful parent. Before I was all like, I am going to be the BEST PARENT EVER! I WILL SUPPORT THEIR FEELING AND WE WILL HAVE OPEN COMMUNICATION!! I AM AN AMAZING SOCIAL WORKER!!!
But now I realized I will be that scary parent who is always screaming at her children.
Anyway, How I Met Your Mother is On, and I have a disc of Big Bang to watch.
Peace out.