Noah woke up this morning in a panic. Barnaby was not here! Damian had already taken him to work, as part of the "deal". But it was a snow day and there was no school. So, sweet Aaron ran to the office and brought Barnaby back to play. A snow day. A new puppy. It was the perfect morning. The kids were thrilled. It felt magical.
But then at about noon, I was already tired of trying to tell him to calm down and stop playfully attacking Noah. Noah couldn't go anywhere with out Barnaby biting his clothes, pulling him down to the ground and licking his ears almost completely off. Plus, the previous owner had said that he would not jump onto furniture unless invited. Barnaby wasn't waiting for any invitation, he had to be all up in your grill. I told the kids I was bringing him back to the office and they didn't put up a stink. I think they were a little exhausted from it too.
I took him back to the office where he apparently sat calmly the rest of the afternoon.
Oh boy. This looks like a long dog-filled road ahead of us. Everything started to sink in...finding someone to watch him when we go out of town. Weekends, summers. Training him. Neutering him. Vet visits. I started to feel queasy.
Then Aaron texted and said the owner was willing to take him back. Uh....YES! Because this dog simply wasn't mother approved. And if any dog ever became part of our family, I'd need an old tired lazy one.
Just like it's owner.
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