When I decided on a whim about a month ago to go on a six hour adventure to pick up a puppy, there are a few things people didn't tell me about raising a eight-week-old pup by yourself.
There are days when I want to rip my hair out and scream. When she refuses to go out, or come in, or tries to eat everything (so far a few phone chargers, a few pairs of shoes, her food bowls, the rugs, and rat poison to name a couple...so far), when I give her a bath and she jumps in a creek, etc, etc...
There are moments when I can hardly hold back from vomiting. You know. The picking up of all sorts of bodily fluids your hands or nose should never, ever, be near...like seriously.
You're gonna lose sleep. You're gonna look like or feel like a zombie. It's part of the gig of a crying little furball who has to pee almost every twenty seconds. Suck it sweetheart.
She needs you. More than just to put out food and water. If she wants to play, or sleep, or explore, she's gonna need you to have her back...like nonstop.
You're gonna drop off socially. Yeah, I would really love to stay out all night and day but...we're watching movies in front of a fan right now. So, I'll get back to you...if she can come with...
You're gonna need her. More than you ever thought you could need someone that can't speak. There are days when she's the only reason you pull through. When she jumps up in your lap and ruins your clothes with clumsy, muddy, paws that it'll be the highlight of your day. When she's afraid and snuggles up on your shoulder, you'll feel like you're doing something right in this world. When a friend goes to walk into your house and she starts barking at them you'll feel protected (even if she's only twenty pounds or so of fluff, her heart's in the right spot). When you tell her to sit, and she actually does, you'll glow with that weird sense of pride like, hey, I taught you that, and hey, you're the smartest pup on the face of the earth, and I'm the luckiest furmom on it because you're mine.
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