Tuesday, 15 June 2010

The D.O.G.G

There lives in this world a dog, called Bob. He goes by many other aliases mainly Bobble, Sir Robert Dogg, Bobinda, The Bobbist Monk (don't ask) and Bob Dog. For the purposes of this blog, he will be know simply as Bob.

He is a mini-medium goldendoodle aged 29.5 weeks, born in Lexington, West Columbia, SC to a miniature apricot poodle called Sparky and a golden retriever mother called Cheyenne. Here he is as a puppy:

Bob arrived into our lives and home on 3rd January 2010. Now, I have been around dogs most of my life and not just lap dogs, but two trained hitmen of the canine world, Jack Russell Terriers. These fearless and inexhaustible dogs are wonderful animals full of energy & life, so much so, that I thought any other dog would be a comparative walk in the park (no pun intended).

I WAS WRONG...I say I'm wrong (nobody puts baby in the corner...I digress, sorry).

Bob made the Jack Russells seem like they were just playing at being dogs, which they certainly were not. Like a Force 10 Hurricane sweeping across the plains, Bob showed me what being a real dog Mummy was all about. Batten down the hatches!

The past 6 months have gone something like this:

Months 1-2, no sleep, approx. 1000 puppy training pads consumed and carpet stain remover used. 4000 miles of dog walking (in the cold), previously scar-free, porcelain skinned hands now aged 45 years and pock marked with pin-teeth bites.

Months 3-4, intermittent sleep, Bob now only waking at 11pm and 5am, 500 puppy pads used, 8000 miles of park duty, endless shots at the vets.

Months 5 to present, full sleep has been resumed (for now! Remember there is a baby coming in about a month), puppy pads banished, only to be replaced with 356 trips a day outside for potty training, pin teeth have now gone, to be replaced with Dracula fangs which are blunter but a whole lot stronger, 12,000 miles of park duty, which now has to be done at 8am latest to avoid the daily temps in the 90 degrees!

On the whole, Bob is a good boy for being only 7 months old, but he is a Jekyll & Hyde character. Whereas after his morning walk, he will crash out for hours on end, as soon as he is awake, he will transform into a dynamo, chewing cushions and pulling up carpets, chasing tea towels and drinking out of toilets!

This is what he looks like nowadays:

Being a dog Mummy has some rewards mainly watching him develop and learn new things, meeting other dog owners in the park, but it doesn't compare to being a dog Daddy. Dog Daddy will henceforth be known as "Bob's Hero", a man so esteemed and worshipped, that as soon as he walks through the door in the evening, Bob's whole world stops to pay homage to his idol. From 5.30pm to bedtime, Bob doesn't leave "Bob's Hero's" side, lazing next to him on the couch and licking his face.

I am not bitter about this skewed affection. I know deep down Bob loves me, it's just in a more aloof 'i know you're always there', taken-for-granted sense. I'm thinking this is the lot of most mothers (dog or child) and it is a feeling I am just going to have to get used to!

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