I think we’ve finally begun moving out of that puppy period with Flynn.
That isn’t to say he isn’t still a puppy or that he won’t still act like a puppy over the next…year or two, but there’s a period, I think, for the first couple of months that they’re in a new place that is rough for the puppy and for you. You’re getting used to them, they’re getting used to you, they’re growing up and getting older and getting curious and getting into things and everything’s just…new–and as much as you love them from day 1, they still barely know you and aren’t at a point where they really, truly, love you yet.
It makes sense. And that’s where we’ve been.
Flynn has been, for a while now, very…rambunctious (probably the kindest word to go with here), very spirited and it’s nearly pushed Abbie and I to our breaking point.
Parents are inclined to say, “Oh…wait until you have a baby,” but I don’t feel like the two ideas are too comparable; saying that, saying, “Oh wait until [. . .],” not just about this specifically–and I don’t mean to be mean here–is a way of discounting the trouble someone is going through in favor of drawing attention to any struggle you may have gone through, to draw attention to yourself–and really all it does is tell someone that their trouble isn’t real, or shouldn’t be considered all that troubling since someone else, somewhere, has, at some point, had it worse.
Parenting a puppy is rough, especially when the parents live separately, and he’s a puppy, and the schedules of both parents overlap in weird ways, and he’s a puppy–and the puppy is as wild as a strapped down, bundled up, ball of lightning condensed down into a furry little being. There’ve been times where I’ve cried, and Abbie’s cried, and I’ve cried, wondering whether or not having him was the right decision, whether or not we were ready, whether or not it would have been better if we’d given him away before we were this attached. And then crying for even thinking of doing that.
It’s been a trip.
But now as we’re exiting the feisty, nippy, puppy phase that is getting to know us, and entering into the curious, sprinting away, smiling as he does it while we’re chasing after him phase, we’re having our own set of new troubles.
These include being more wary of letting him off leash in our own big yard, of having to watch him closer than ever (even closer than when he was into eating ants), and of figuring out how to have fun and play and get all of that energy out without having to chase him for half a mile.
But we’ll figure it out. Less qualified people than us have done it to some form of perceived success so we’ll manage just fine. Let’s just hope he doesn’t run away first.