We love our new puppy, except that yesterday she ate a very large hole in our couch. The couch needed to be recovered, but when we were ready to do it. I can turn over the cushion, but I had forgotten that we bought the couch just before Dashiell was born and, well, you know what they say about boys and projectile vomit. There are shadowy stains all over it. Our next party is going to have to be dimly lit indeed.
The couch is part of a long list of things that Asta has had her way with. We couldn’t catch her in time. We have, to our credit, stopped her from making mince meat out of an endless variety of toys: Legos, Batman heads, storm troopers, Godzilla’s tail and the like. She has many bones and chew toys but she is adventurous. Here’s an accounting of things she’s had success destroying:
1. Ant trap =$35 call to Animal Poison Control where I learned ant poison actually has the same ingredients as heartworm medication and dogs are attracted to it because it tastes sweet. It’s not the poison that is dangerous it’s the plastic that can tear her intestines.
2. David’s eyeglasses. We first suspected Dash, who took the blame and gave himself a time out in the corner but I became doubtful he couldn’t tell us what actually happened. I took a closer look at the frames and noticed the white dents were clearly from puppy teeth. $600 (insurance will kick some back to us.)
3. Another ant trap
4. The foot of my antique child’s chair. I’ve told myself it adds character.
5. Socks–while your feet are in them. OUCH!
6. Conrad’s “gold” medal from a birthday party good bag (please don’t mention it, he still doesn’t know).
7. Wicker baskets in my office handmade by Amish. Irreplaceable.
8. And today she ate a crayon and has the red poop to prove it.
I offer this list not to blame her, but us. The problem is that our other dog Chewie is 13, and he’s not really a dog, he’s more like a lump of an animal that I have to pick up and move around the house because he is going blind and can’t manage steps or crossing thresholds from room to room. For instance, Chewie has trouble walking into the kitchen from the dining room because the floors are different. I sometimes have to spoon feed him. Chew’s inertia and age has made us completely forget what puppies do and what they do is chew and play and pee and need to be moving all day–or at least 99% of it. When I see what Asta has done, I thank god that David is a cautious and deliberate person. On all those slightly drunken nights when I’m thinking oh who cares about birth control, David knows we could never handle that third kid I’ve always thought we could rise to the occasion to raise. Now that we have a baby girl, albeit a canine version, Asta has proved that if we can’t handle a second dog, I could never have managed a third child. If I had one, she would surely be on a Lindsay Lohan trajectory because children and puppies, no matter how tired, relaxed or just simply distracted I am, can’t raise, or in this case, train themselves.
February was a rough month for Conrad. The winter seemed to really get him down. When I’d be tucking him in he’d tell me that something was bugging him and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Unsure of what to do, I’d say something benign like sometimes we all have good days and bad days, but his sadness persisted. As the month wore on he’d tell me that he felt like someone was punching him all the time. I joked that he should punch them back. But that didn’t make him feel better. Then he told me that at recess he wishes he could just go home and lie in his bed. On the night he told me he wished he could just disappear and he knew all his friends wished the same thing, I got worried.
