two and twenty-two

Pickle is now one year old. I am relieved. Getting a puppy was an exciting enigma (Now that I am “editing” this before posting, I have no recollection of typing that word, but it’s staying…). I haven’t gotten a new dog in over fifteen years. And a puppy? I was just a little kid when I got my first puppy. What did I know about taking care of or training a dog?

But here is Pickle: alive and a whole year old. I’ve now had her for half of her life.

I thought taking care of a dog would be easy. Feed her; walk her; take her out to pee. I knew it was a big responsibility—much bigger than the five goldfish we easily killed off in about a month. I remember signing the adoption papers and mentally freaking out: what if she dies? what if I do it wrong? what if she hates me? what if I fail?  

The first weekend, she was so sick that I thought she would die. Before Pickle, I didn’t even know what kennel cough was. I didn’t know what kind of dog food to give her. I didn’t know what to put in her crate with her.

I didn’t even know how to crate her: for how long? should she have food & water in there? can she get out? what if she hates me for crating her?

I even bought a crate that was pretty much for a German Shepherd. Pickle is like a very bulk Jack Russell or a very large Dachshund, to reference her “main breeds”. Needless to say, the crate was much too big. She kind of freaked out. I exchanged it for a smaller one, which is still too big (I just have a hard time believing they really like small spaces). I keep the puppy divider in the crate to make the perfect length; it’s still too tall, but it works.

Even in just these few months, we’ve done so much. We’ve hiked Rattlesnake Ridge and Mt. Pilchuk. We’ve driven to California and back. We’ve gone rowboating. We’ve gone to the Pacific Ocean and gone swimming in Puget Sound. We’ve had an adventuresome summer—a great start to our lives together, I’d say.

I wish I could say it’s been all good adventures. But there are the crazy, unexpected adventures. Like working on house-training and cleaning up a mess in front of the door almost every morning.  Like learning work/life balance to make time for my puppy. Like getting her the right about of exercise. Like dealing with chewed bibles and shoes and pillows. We’re still learning, here. Clearly.

I guess I thought I had a purpose of this in mind when I started writing: a story in my head. I was going to write about how when I was taking care of Derek, I knew what to do because it was like taking care of myself only different, but you know, we had the same needs essentially. So taking care of a dog would be much easier right? She’s certainly much littler than Derek, and Derek loved his dog so much, even though for the last few years, he couldn’t so much as pet her.

But it’s been totally different. Taking care of a dog is like having a baby that you can leave home alone sometimes. Otherwise, she eats, sleeps, pees on the floor, and then exhibits extreme reserves of energy through chewing, running, and jumping. So by baby here, we really mean toddler (hopefully minus the peeing on the floor, but you never know…).

Anyways, here we are. Happy birthday, Pickle.

Here’s to your second year and my twenty-second year.