So, here’s the thing: when we got Max (wayyy back in 1997), he was about 8 months old and already neutered. As chill a dog as they came, Max would do whatever you wanted. Naps? Sure! Walkies? Sure! Hang around the house? Sure! It was all good to Max.
I was spoiled. And I had no idea.
Here comes the pupster Brogan – just 5ish months old when we got him in May, all three of you recall the summer’s travails with him driving me crazy. He *finally* grew out of that (thank you God and Camp Melissa!) and when we were all back at home again, life was much better.
Then we get him neutered.
And that was fun.
Duty was all squeamish (what it is, btw, about guys having sympathy pangs for the loss of man/dog-hood??) so I had to take Brogan to get it done.
Poor doggie has to wear the plastic cone of shame for seven days and that’s worse for us than it probably is for Brogan. We did, however, get him an inflatable one so he doesn’t walk into walls and scare us and himself!
All this reminds me that Duty and I would be divorced right now if we had children. When things get spazzy, I go to this ultra-calm place to do what’s needed (and then freak out and sit in the closet later) and he gets all wigged out and grumpy.
Fighting often ensues.
Well, he says we’re not fighting but any kind of friction I label fighting.
Whatever.
The point of this diatribe is that it feels like we embarked on an adventure when we got Brogan – an adventure we had no idea we’d go on much less what it entailed. People with kids, I don’t know how you do it. God bless each and every single one of ya’s.
I know that more adventures await us as he grows up and even though he sorta drives me crazy sometimes, I wouldn’t trade him in for just about anything. We get a lot of love and joy out of this relationship that more than makes up for the aggravation. When I see how much Duty LOVES this dog, it makes my heart happy. And we both needed that.
