Puppy Woes, Part One

Don’t let a bad day make you feel like you have a bad life. ~Author unknown

Do you ever feel you’re living under a dark cloud? One that’s constantly spewing forth a cold, hard, driving rain?

That’s been my life for two months now, and those who know me will realize it’s about the same time a new puppy came into it.

I’ve heard the caveats, so don’t bother repeating them:

Debbie, you’re 15 years older than the last time you got a puppy, and you’ve forgotten how HARD it isYour previous dog was Mary Poppins (“practically perfect in every way”); no new puppy can live up to that standardInto every life a bit of misery must fall

But somehow, I never expected the experience to be this challenging.

The first hurdle? Changing the pup’s name.

As an English major, I should have realized “Sully” means to soil, stain, tarnish, mar, defile.

Not a glowing legacy for a poor pup, huh?

And honestly, I never could remember to call him “Sully.” It just didn’t stick — for me or my mom.

So, since I’d been calling him My Little Monkey practically since he arrived, “Monkey” he became.

It fits him.

My Little Monkey

Next hurdle? House training.

I shouldn’t have started with Puppy Pee Pads. Nor should anyone try to house train a pup who’s too young to be able to hold his waste. Or when it’s 20 degrees outside. Or the wind is howling. Or the rain is coming down sideways.

Then there have been health challenges.

My Mom went to the hospital twice in March and is now living in a rehab place for who-knows-how long. Every time I go visit — after enduring the COVID-prevention protocols — she has a new complaint.

Don’t people realize that being disagreeable makes everybody around disagreeable, too?

And poor Monkey was diagnosed with a bladder infection when I realized I couldn’t house train a dog who peed constantly … all over the floor. A 10-day round of antibiotics cleared it but gave him diarrhea.

Thank Heaven for little Shelties who don’t have skirts yet!

Still, I found myself getting up every two hours through the night to rush him outdoors, and I spent days on my hands and knees cleaning up his messes.

I didn’t have time or energy for anything, much less blogging.

Could things get any worse?

Join me on Wednesday and see.