as they grow
And Puppy Makes Five

By Leslie Watson

For the last several years Helen has lobbied hard to expand our family’s animal kingdom beyond a single bad-tempered cat. Her chief argument–that the cat just isn’t much of a pet–is pretty convincing. He mostly ignores us, preferring to view himself as an employee who catches the occasional mouse in exchange for room and board rather than a member of the family. I actually consider his indifference to be one of his best qualities. But Helen, who can’t resist stories about animals and owns about 4,000 stuffed ones, has longed for something soft and furry to curl up on her lap and be a best friend when all others fail her.

Many species have populated her wish list over the years: bunny, ferret, parakeet, a nice cat that doesn’t bite, and even a caterpillar. But a puppy has usually occupied the top spot. With an animal-crazy kid, a large fenced yard, and no known allergies, it was inevitable that a dog would worm its way into the family during some weak parental moment. Determined to delay it, though, I had adopted the firm position that the kids would first have to prove themselves responsible enough to help with the walking, training, and scooping. Every wet towel left on the floor and every scattered bin of Legos was duly tagged and entered as evidence in my case against family dog ownership.

My husband Andrew had always backed me up. Although he harbors a secret canine soft spot, he’s a realist about the hassle of pets and was happy to let me set the bar high. So when he suddenly announced this spring that we should adopt a dog when school let out, I was floored. “It will be really good for the kids,” he said. “And we’d have all summer to train it.” I was underwhelmed by his rationale, but the kids soon discovered the chink in our canine blockade and their advocacy gathered steam.

Then, like the fool that I can sometimes be, I started googling “animal rescue puppy adoption twin cities.” Within ten minutes, I was choking up at all the pets needing homes. Within an hour, I was emailing candidate listings to Andrew. And within two days, Gaius, a cheerful black lab puppy with giant paws, had found a home with Leslie, the sucker for the shameless online emotional appeal.

Three months later I can safely say that we’re really glad Gaius is here, even if the reality of his arrival has not always met everyone’s expectations. Helen, of course, was hoping for a stuffed animal come magically alive so that she could shower it with all the sweetness in her golden little soul. What she got was a rambunctious toddler dog who viewed her as a littermate, meant for nipping and jumping upon despite cries of protest. After just a week of sharp puppy teeth and ripped clothes, she was regularly cursing “that idiot dog,” although she always forgave him the minute he collapsed into an exhausted heap. And within just a month, she was starting to issue firm commands with a becoming confidence.

As for me, I expected the dog to be a lot of work, and I wasn’t disappointed in that. I knew I’d be blotting up puddles and finding dog hair in unwelcome places. I’d heard that lab puppies were chewers, and so I didn’t flinch too hard when Gaius ripped off strips of wallpaper, gnawed through my computer cord, and shredded every roll of toilet paper he found. I also knew that he’d eat things that he shouldn’t, so I was annoyed but not surprised when he devoured my asparagus patch, or when we had to build a barricade around the compost to prevent his snacking on that decomposing buffet.

What I didn’t expect was that a puppy would mean instant membership in a vast club of dog owners. I didn’t realize I had so many neighbors that I’d never even met until they stopped by to chat and introduce their own dogs. It also hadn’t occurred to me that Ned might start going for walks with me and the dog, talking over this and that and everything and nothing. And I didn’t know I’d take such joy in Gaius’s ever-lengthening legs and the healthy gleam of his coat, or in his friendly good cheer as he scampered about the dog park.

Most of all, I never imagined that, despite all the nuisance, we would so quickly come to adore our stinky, foolish, lovable puppy. “It will be good for the kids” doesn’t begin to capture the way that this creature is both a magnet and a lens for some of the best things about family life. Ours is a good home, but we are all strong-willed people with tempers to match, and peace can sometimes be elusive for us. But you’d never guess it from the scene last night on the living room carpet. The four of us were sprawled protectively around Gaius, a human fence containing his stretched-out form. Rubbing belly and ears, dangling chew toys, ducking a happy pink tongue, we lovingly told him every silly thing he wanted to hear. No conflicts raging, no scolding imminent, no anxiety brewing. Just the five of us, all together, relaxed and happy and whole. Even the cat looked on approvingly.

Leslie Watson is a freelance writer in Northeast Minneapolis, where she doles out liver treats with a free hand. She can be found online at www.thebusypen.com.

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