A week! A dry week?
One single solitary week! Is that really all the time that has gone past since last Friday? Jeez. Feels like a lifetime.
I had planned to have a ‘dry’ week this week and set myself up for a healthy eating regime with lots of green juices and whole foods. A diet that would be wholesome and healing.
Then, we picked up a puppy.
At Christmas, we announced to the Wild Tribe that after years of pestering, written petitions, promises of poop scooping and dog walking, tears and tantrums and whittling down of Christmas lists to ‘Dog’, that the time had finally come. On the 27th of January we would be collecting a small, very expensive fur-ball and welcoming yet more chaos to the family. The news on Christmas Day was met with unadulterated joy, kids crying and jumping off sofas, Dad sighing in the corner and looking world weary. Me, wondering what the Hell I had let myself in for and swiftly pouring another gin.
Peak Levels of Mania
That excitement level was only topped by a phone call last week from the breeder saying that we could pick her up on 21 January. A whole precious week earlier than we had arranged. A whole week less planning ahead!
On the eve of dog collection day the eldest child developed a fever, a face whiter than white, shaky legs and sore throat. Come the morning of dog collection day she was no better. Nothing, however, was going to get in her way of collecting said dog. So, with threats of a spewing child, a forecast of heavy snow as we crossed the Pennines and the prospect of a whimpering puppy peeing in the crate on the return journey, we set out on our six hour round trip to collect our furry family member.
Listen to wise words my friend, listen well
When I asked friends before Christmas for their top tips were for taking on a new puppy, one wise, sage, knowledgeable friend (I may listen to you next time) said ‘best advice, don’t do it’.
Whilst I wouldn’t take her back for the world, I would put in a specific request next time. A request for a dog who doesn’t try and dig up the parquet flooring in the kitchen. A dog who doesn’t have a penchant for munching on live electrical cable and a dog who already knows not to pee on the new carpet or nibble my Joules jacket.
The kids aren’t complaining though. Littlest child has taken to wrapping her in a t-shirt and dancing her around the kitchen, singing along to Ed Sheeran (apparently Lola likes that best), middle child (the boy) enjoys wrestling with her and trying to teach a very new dog some very old tricks, and the eldest child is using her as the perfect excuse to forget to do her homework.
I have cleaned up more accidents than a mother with a troublesome potty training toddler, thrown away two pairs of shoes, (admittedly two now rather worn, very tooth marked pairs of shoes), threatened to leave my husband if he doesn’t acquaint himself with a set of wipes and a pair of marigolds any time soon and fallen into a stupor of exhaustion by 9pm every day this week.
On the upside …. the dog makes my children happy and restores a sense of balance to this crazy house.
A lesson in Life
I also had an amazing life coaching session this week. My homework? To design my perfect life jumper (that’s a whole other blog post) and to organise a wild night out with friends. She also taught me not to take anymore sh*t.