I can’t believe we’ve had our bundle of joy for two weeks now and during this time, not only have I learned about our little wild thing, I’ve learned a thing or two about myself. Or should I say, Rosie is hauling these things from somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of my being.
Typically, I spend crazy amounts of time in my office, on my computer, dealing with email, social media, and all that goes along with that, getting stressed to the max! Yet there I sit, accomplishing nothing, going down one link trail after another, getting obsessed about really stupid stuff like the Pitt-Jolie breakup. When you have a little one in the house, you cannot ignore her for hours at a time; in fact, you need to take her out every hour or so to teach her the ins and outs (hopefully all outs) of housebreaking. Since Rosie, I am prioritizing (what a concept) and only doing what I really NEED to be doing, like writing this post.
This brings me to another discovery. Puppies do not “go” on command. In fact, in the beginning they don’t have a blessed clue why they are outside and what they are supposed to do there. Armed with a pocketful of treats, at first I anxiously followed Rosie around so I could give her an instantaneous reward when she peed or pooped and get back to my key-banging. This didn’t go as planned. Instead, I became a big distraction leaving potty time the farthest thing from her mind. I mentally threw my hands and began to enjoy just being out there with her while she sniffed around incessantly, went mad-crazy over bugs, ran around in gleeful circles, and plopped herself down in the sun with a stick to gnaw on. And all the while I watched, I had on a great, big happy face! Rosie was making me be in the moment!
Finally, also thanks to Rosie, I am entering another phase of life: second (maybe third?) childhood. I have always been an active sort, but truthfully, as the years have gone by, I’m not as intensely active as I once was. That has now changed. I am walking dogs, bending to pick up poops (mostly outside – yay!) and food bowls, standing, picking up toys, throwing balls, and more until I drop into bed at night more exhausted and fulfilled than I have been in years.
All of this thanks to a mad-crazy, funny, delightful Boston Terrier puppy named Rosie.
News Flash: Big sis, nine-year-old BT Sasha is actually playing with her nemesis!!