Experience is the best teacher.
Since they were little, my kids have wanted a puppy. They have a dog at their dad’s house, by the way. They wanted one at each house.
Like them, and probably every other kid in the history of civilization, I remember assuring my parents that if they let me have a puppy, I’d feed it and take it for walks and make sure it had enough water, and then of course after getting one, my mom ended up taking care of it more than I did. So I knew the hustle.
It’s just not the right time for a dog, I’d tell our kids. It was true. It still is, for now at least. My husband and I have been working on our separate businesses for some time and don’t have the time that must be dedicated to training and caring for a new family member. One day we will probably add a dog to our household, but for now, we have a cat in the house and a horse in a pasture one town over, and that’s enough for now. The kids are now in high school and — before the schools closed and the country largely shut down — had social lives and work schedules that afforded them little time to spend time with a dog anyway, not to mention caring for it.
I did wish that they knew the responsibilities of dog ownership and the why behind the no. There’s nothing like firsthand knowledge based on personal experience when it comes to making a decision on something as important as getting a dog.
Last week my wish came true. I got a text from my daughter informing me that her older brother had found a puppy out in the country. The kids — who are currently staying at my parents’ house because I’ve got an immune deficiency and am under quarantine — decided that they had to at least take the puppy to the house and go from there. They floated the idea of maybe keeping the puppy, but that got shut down immediately. The grandparents, who went through this song and dance with their own three kids back in the 80s, knew the hustle.
She sent me a photo of their new ward, who was black with white-tipped paws and perky little ears. Since my son was busy working and toying with his new Jeep that he’d gotten as a graduation gift, my daughter and her cousin took it upon themselves to take care of this puppy until they found a proper home for her. It probably wouldn’t be that hard. Right?
Not surprisingly, the Wonder Twins had their work cut out for them. For starters, the puppy — they named her Winnie — was covered in fleas and her swollen little baby belly was full of worms. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was whimpering or pooping or peeing. They bathed her and bought puppy chow and filled her water bowl over and over. They fussed over her and made sure she was as comfortable as possible. One would puppysit while the other drove to the store to get flea shampoo and dewormer or run other puppy-related errands.
Their first night as puppy foster parents was done in shifts in the bathroom, with Winnie and a heating pad in a box placed into the bathtub to keep any remaining fleas from hopping onto my parents’ bathroom floor and causing an invasion. Going outside involved tiptoeing downstairs and hoping that Winnie stayed quiet so as not to wake my parents. The girls camped out on the bathroom floor when Winnie was sleeping.
The next day, my daughter told me that this was way more work than she’d expected. That’s what I was trying to tell her and her brothers all along, I told her. She was stressed out and frustrated. Her cousin had gotten maybe two hours of sleep. Winnie still had fleas and my parents were not thrilled to find out that the source of the fleas, cute as she was, had spent a good bit of time in their guest bathroom.
The following day, the girls had already had it with puppy fostering. They posted about Winnie on Instagram and Facebook, hoping to find a good home for her. They’d talked with friends who wanted her, but the friends’ parents knew the hustle. So as they prepared for the next night shift, they hoped that a solution would present itself. Soon.
As luck would have it, my daughter ended up talking with a woman who owned a rescue in a town located about an hour away. I have a friend who adopted two dogs from this same rescue a couple of years ago, so I assured the girls that Winnie was going into good hands.
The next afternoon, I got a text from my daughter that read, “Winnie is gone.” She was a little sad, but she was also ready for some sleep. And she was relieved. She had to get back to focusing on studying for her AP exams.
My relief probably outweighs hers, at least in the long run. Because of this experience that she and her cousin had, I’m pretty confident that, once out on their own, they’re not likely to ever decide to get a puppy on a whim. The decision to add a dog to the household will be made only after careful consideration based on the crash course they unwittingly took when they were in high school.
And that dog will be going into good hands.