Dogzilla and Me

Meet K, our new puppy. He is a now four-month-old Lab/German Shepherd mix that hubby-to-be (H2B) brought home from North Carolina after a track meet. I didn't want a dog at all, but H2B really, really did. I compromised and only asked for one thing in return: a small adult dog (a shitzu would have been nice). What I got was K. Please don't tell me how cute he is...

Two reasons I didn't want a dog: we already have a cat (9-yr-old Vestley) and puppies, I hear, are a lot of work. For the record, we are almost never home for long stretches of time. I work during the day, teach writing classes at night, coach track in the afternoon and have karate classes at least three nights a week; H2B coaches and is gone almost every weekend from November through July (in fact, he is at a meet as I type this). It just seemed to me that we hardly have the lifestyle for a dog that has to be walked and fed at regular intervals.

Seems I was right. Although K is slowly getting the don't go IN HERE but OUT THERE thing, I'm coordinating feedings and bathroom runs more than I've done since my son was 2 (he's now almost 16). I swore I wouldn't walk, buy food for K or take him to the vet, but I did all that within his first days here. Also swore I wouldn't bathe him, but we're heading to the local dog wash as soon as I'm done chatting with you. Never say never, I guess.

Don't get me wrong, K is a great dog. He's got a wonderful disposition and is affectionate and sweet - but having a puppy is a lot of work. Last night, in the middle of a torrential downpour, I held an umbrella in a futile attempt to keep us both dry while K did his business outside. Not what I signed up for at all. At this point, I'm about done with scooping puppy pooh from the front lawn. If there is a nastier job on the planet, I don't know what it is...

Dogzilla is what I call him when he chews my flip-flops, eats the cat food and pees in the foyer only inches from the front door (thank God it's tiled and not carpeted there), but he's Puppy Love when he greets me at the door by licking my toes or climbs on my back when I'm doing my morning pushups. Ours is truly a love-hate relationships, it seems...