My brother and sister-in-law recently got a puppy. I do not recognize these people because they had always said, “We will never get a dog”. I really admired their resolve. And I understood their position. It’s one more thing to take care of. A long-term commitment of time, money, and inconvenience. They travel quite a bit, and it becomes a whole thing dealing with who will watch the dog. Etc.
But…my darling nieces wanted a puppy so desperately, I had considered buying one and slipping it into their house when nobody was looking. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. So Kota arrived in their lives, and she is so cute you want to put her in your pocket, if she ever calmed down enough to be put into a pocket.
We are all such tough talkers about how we will handle a pet. Until we get the pet.
When we got our puppy Winston nine years ago, my children made bold claims about how much they were going to help. They were going to feed him. They were going to walk him. They were going to get up with him in the middle of the night. As you’d guess, none of this happened. Our “crate training” at night, as executed by my kids, involved the tiny puppy tucked up with them sleeping on the couch under a plush blanket. Their excuse was he seemed “sad” otherwise.
We do not tolerate sad in this house. Sadness will be stamped out at any opportunity by giving up and giving in. So, the enforcer had to step in.
The enforcer is me. I had already sleep-trained three humans and was not going to let a six-pound furball wield his cuteness. I’m tougher than that. Winston slept in the crate for about eight months. Because it’s my way or the highway.
And now he sleeps in our bed with his own pillow because otherwise he seems sad. (see above)
So when we found out a new puppy was joining the extended family, we were excited. And when they needed someone to watch her, we are the obvious choice because we are seasoned veterans. But like babies, puppies require a lot, and oh, how easily we forget it all.
My brother sent Kota with a detailed document rivaling the Magna Carta. I get it. Because a few weeks ago, she was a random puppy. Now she is family, and we will not accept a moment of her discomfort. We have had Kota a few times now. She makes our dog look like an old man under heavy sedation. He stalks around the center island, watching her with suspicion. He sniffs at her unfamiliar food. She races around and jumps on his head and tries to eat his food. There is not a minute to let our guards down. At night, Kota likes to perch on the highest point of any person, Winston prefers to burrow and rest his chin in the crook of your knee. Doing both at the same time is quite complicated.
I get my 17,000 daily steps walking the dogs together and separately when she is here. Shout-out to all of you dog walkers, I have had leashes wound around my legs while yelling at both of them. They are immune to my instructions. It’s an art and a science to walk two dogs, especially when one is a tortoise and the other a hare.
Winston and Kota are cousins. And like all cousins, they are growing up at different ages and stages together. Sometimes, cousins are the weird family members you never knew you would both love and tolerate.
August days are called the dog days of summer. But aren’t they all dog days? I’m not sure if we got the dogs for the kids or had the kids for the dogs. Either way, it works. The pups are the adoring family, always happy to see us, and are not wasting these precious summer days staring at their phones. Dog days are the best days.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.