Let’s talk about the reality of getting a dog – it’s not all sunshine and roses

It’s a Monday night, the Bachelor is on (yes, I’m a fan) and you want to focus on who is going to get that coveted last rose. But then you hear growling from the kitchen and know that your four-legged companion is not allowing your mother to wash the dishes. Because at some point when she was around six months old, she decided that no one but her should be allowed near the machine or towel with tasty remnants of the humans’ meals. 

Or it’s a beautiful sunny Sunday and you have suited up the pup to go on the trail, but of course every other dog owner had the same thought, and you can’t walk a quarter mile without seeing another fluffy companion. Now this sounds like an amazing way to spend a beautiful Sunday, but your dog is hyper-social and is incapable of walking past another dog calmly. So, you come home with bruises on your low back from the hands-free trail leash. 

I’ll come right out and say it: this experience has been way more difficult than I ever expected. 

No one really talks about the hard parts of owning a dog, And we should. Because over the past seven months, I have been challenged and pushed in ways I never imagined.  

I also fall trap to this. I’ve kept it mostly positive here on this blog even when discussing hard topics. Maybe that’s why I’ve struggled to write in the past few months; maybe I don’t want to remember or document the hard times. 

But they are a part of this experience and merit attention. 

It’s hard to admit that you feel like you’re failing and just plain out of your depth. But at times I have felt those emotions and part of my growth is allowing myself to feel those emotions. Instead of shoving them down and pretending they never came up, I’ll leave them here. 

Pinot has outbursts where she growls, lunges, and sometimes even snaps at me and my family. Mostly around the kitchen and at human dinner time. But sometimes when she’s sleeping in my room or the living room and someone walks by. Or when you unintentionally startle her awake. 

Some of these things are manageable. We know the dishwasher is a problem, so we keep her away from the kitchen or practice her ‘stay’ command while we efficiently load it. We wake her up before adjusting our feet when she falls asleep under the dinner table. 

But a lot of it is random and so you’re left walking on eggshells around her, especially in the kitchen. 

I thought these had faded as she overcame her fear of hardwood, but that hasn’t proven to be the case long term. This behavior ebbs and flows, some days and weeks she is perfectly fine and has no qualms about our movements. Some evenings every move you make is disturbing to her. 

Pinot has always been friendly, but since moving to an apartment she has become incapable of walking by another dog without trying to play. Most times she can’t even walk past a human without wanting to say an enthusiastic hello. Which can make potty walks just plain difficult. 

Beyond behavior, logistics can be hard. We’re currently in a pandemic so social engagements are limited, but Pinot is still under a year and I try not to leave her for more than 3-4 hours. Living with my parents has been a mitigating factor in that my mom helps with the last potty walk or can feed her dinner if I’m out. But they’re going back to the east coast soon and I’ll be alone. 

I know that as she ages things will get calmer, and I am going to start working with a new trainer. But some days I just plain feel like I am failing her, failing to create an environment that sets her up for success. And that is a shitty feeling.

And no one talks about the bad days of being a dog parent. Or the extra things to consider when you take it on alone. 

Having said all that, it is still completely worth it. I have zero regrets about my decision. Pinot has been a light in my life that I wouldn’t trade for the world. 

But that doesn’t mean that it been all sunshine and roses.