We took our puppy to get neutered today. He was rather distraught when we picked him up. And he was really angry about the Cone of Shame. Like, REALLY. So, we agreed to let him release this statement in lieu of my writing about his experiences today.
Are you kidding me with this?
“Hello. My humans call me Loki. I am also known as The Dog. This morning, at approximately 0715 hours, the tall human brought me to the place where I normally get lots of pets and treats. This morning, though, there were no treats. They took me away from the tall human into a back room I had not seen before. They shaved my paw, and while I was busy sitting there wondering how this weird haircut might mess things up for me with the ladies, they stuck me with a needle. I was appalled. I don’t remember much after that, but I do know that I woke up without my balls. They were there this morning. I’m positive they were there this morning. Anyway, I got some pets and a weird shaved paw and then my balls were gone. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this crime. I feel violated. They took away my reproductive choice without even consulting me about it. What kind of family is this? I’m not sure I can trust these people again. I don’t think we will be working this out. Ever. Like not ever.
Oh…wait. Hold up a second. Gotta go. The tall one just brought my kibble. I’ll take the food from him, but I am for sure going to knock over my water bowl every day for the rest of my life in retribution for the cruelty they exhibited by absconding with my gonads. And the tall one shall henceforth hold my bones when I chew them.”
“For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.” ~Noor Tagouri
I committed to writing here every day, but on some days that is a tall order. Today, for example, was not my best day. Still tired from my travel and long weekend, I woke up and took my son to school. This trip takes me about an hour and ten minutes round trip. Made it home in time to get in a quick shower and turn around and get back into the car to drive 35 minutes (one way) to therapy. I had a productive, but emotional and exhausting, therapy session. Left therapy and drove home to grab an apple for lunch. I finished it and a few slices of cheddar and hopped back in my car to go to my hair appointment. When I left the salon, I had just enough time to make it to pick up at my son’s school. I grabbed him and drove home. I was home for about 30 minutes and was able to sort through some Amazon packages. I then went with my husband to pick up take out Mexican food for dinner because I haven’t made it to the grocery store since returning from our trip to Portland. We made it home around 5:30. While carrying the food in from the car, the bottom of the paper bag gave out and all the containers dropped onto the floor. Some sauce splashed out but, thankfully, the majority of the food remained in its containers. Still, the incident made enough of a mess on the entryway rug and floor that I had to pull out the steam mop before dinner. We managed to get all the food plated and warmed and served by 5:45. At the dinner table, it was noted that I haven’t cooked a meal in a while, well, since last Wednesday, the night before Luke and I left for Portland. Sigh. I finished my meal, put dessert on the table, loaded the dishwasher, wiped down the placemats, table, and counter, and thought I would get a minute to work on an actual blog post, but then the puppy got angsty so I took him outside. He pooped and peed and rolled in the snow, so I thought he might be ready to settle. Instead of settling as I had hoped he would, though, he tore around our bedroom grabbing anything within his jumping range. He then chewed up a KN95 mask before heading into the bathroom to pee on the tile floor (and partially on one of the rugs in there too because why not). I pulled out the steam cleaner again, and then folded a load of someone else’s laundry to clear up the washer and dryer so I could put in a load with the towels I had used to clean the puppy mess and the bathroom rug. When I finally sat down to attempt to write something here, it was 9:45 p.m. So, here we are with me simply providing a litany of complaints about my subpar Monday because that is all I have energy and brain power for. I know I live an incredibly fortunate life and, as a rule, I try to focus on the gratitude I have for that fact; but today was not my best day, so I’m not feeling very grateful. I’ve also learned that just because someone is fortunate does not mean they are immune to struggles, frustration, sadness, and exhaustion. Everyone is entitled to a bad day.
In an earlier post, I mentioned my word for the year, the one I wanted to focus on, is boundaries. It’s clear from my day today that I am not doing an exemplary job of establishing those thus far. I am worn out, physically, mentally, and emotionally right now, so much so that I broke down and sobbed while cleaning up the puppy pee. It’s safe to say I am a little overwrought. So, while boundary setting is on my list and will be set in motion soon, for tonight and the rest of the week the word is self-care because I am feeling stick-a-fork-in-me done.
There is some good news, though. I have known for weeks that I was heading towards this emotional breakdown, so I planned a weekend away for myself starting this Friday and ending early Sunday evening. I hope to read, sleep, meditate, write, work on a vision board, and eat raw, healthy food. If the weather holds, I might take a long walk or two. My last solo trip (one where I had zero responsibilities to anyone other than myself) was in September 2020. My introvert brain is due. With any luck, I will be able to return in a better headspace and with a plan to establish some boundaries that will make my life more peaceful for the remainder of the year. Fingers crossed.
Post script: Not two minutes after I had finished this post, the older dog decided she needed to be let out. So, I opened the door and went out with her into the cold and dark in my socks and pajamas only to have her stand out there for two minutes. Then our house alarm went off because apparently we’re setting it again now.
Joe seeks an escape from the deadly dinosaur fangs of a teething, five month old corgi puppy. He finds refuge in the escapee’s usual area of perpetual confinement. Loki runs towards him, desiring to sink his teeth into the socks of distraction, and realizes with regret his fangs cannot find purchase with the plastic wall of dissatisfaction in place. With nowhere for his hormonal malice to go, our tiny, angsty dinosaur regards the human in his cage, and asks the question on everyone’s mind:
We have an almost five month old Pembroke Welsh Corgi puppy named Loki. Years ago, our youngest became obsessed with Corgis and passed his love of them on to us. It wasn’t a hard sell because Corgis are cute. But there are things to know about these sweet, funny puppers before you add one to your family.
They are herding dogs, which means they are definitely not for everyone. Because we’d already owned a herding dog, when we began looking for a second dog, we were well aware of what to expect from one. By nature, herders are incredibly intelligent and energetic. Perhaps the most difficult part of owning a herding dog is understanding that they know what they want, and it can be very difficult to convince them to do something they are not interested in doing. When our border collie was a pup, I took her to training. She would do the requested behavior three to four times and then decided she knew what I was asking for and had enough of doing my bidding. She would then stubbornly sit down and refuse to play any longer. We have discovered some of this same stubbornness in our Corgi, but this is softened because he is highly food motivated and will do almost anything for a snack. Herding dogs are good at amusing themselves, which can be a positive if they do so by playing with a squeaky toy or a negative if they do so by chewing on your carpeting. Overall, we found herding dogs to be our favorite group because of their intelligence and independence, but they can be handful until they are trained and settled in with your family.
Corgis have become quite popular in the last thirty years. Depending on the list, they rank somewhere between 11th and 20th in breed popularity. They draw a crowd wherever they go. We can’t take him anywhere without people stopping to ask if they can pet him. He is eager to meet everyone too. He loves all dogs and all people. I’ve heard them described as the clowns of the herding group, and that is absolutely correct. They can be doofuses. They are endlessly entertaining, tearing around the house with their unlimited energy doing their zoomies, sliding under furniture with their stubby legs (Corgi translates to “dwarf dog” in Welsh), and dramatically flopping themselves down into a Corgi sploot when they are tired or annoyed. They often sleep on their backs, which is adorable. Their appeal is undeniable.
Corgi splootNap time
Although Loki is only 19 weeks, he is almost fully housebroken and already knows several commands. He has most of the basic commands (sit, come, watch me, touch, and leave it) and is learning to walk on a loose leash. I’ve also been able to teach him some tricks. He will spin in a circle on command, stick his nose through a donut toy (I call this command “boop”), and use an “inside voice” (quiet bark).
Boop
But it hasn’t been a non-stop honeymoon. There were a few times over a few weeks when I wondered if we had made a mistake. He is super high energy. On days when we don’t give him enough exercise or mental stimulation, he can be a giant pain in the ass, barking a lot and chewing on every single thing he can find (including our flesh). Since we discovered that our lack of attention and lack of puppy exercise leads him to boredom, which ends in angst, life with our Loki has been infinitely better. We have created a routine that keeps us on track with him. He eats, goes outside, get training time and then play time or a walk, and then gets a nap. With that cycle more or less in place (minus eating more than twice a day), Loki is a charming and sweet little fellow.
During those moments when I thought perhaps we had chosen a demon, I took solace in the fact that in corgi groups on Facebook, many people had multiple corgi dogs. Certainly people wouldn’t purposely subject themselves to several demon dogs if they didn’t at some point become amazing family pets. And, indeed, like many dog breeds, when you understand them and what makes them special, you can curb the less than ideal traits and harness the good ones. Although we were around Loki all the time, on some days we weren’t giving him the mental stimulation he needed. As soon as we changed how we interacted with him, everything turned around. It’s all about understanding the creature in your house.
So, would I get another corgi and join the legions with multiple, short-legged corgi floofs? I would, but I definitely do not think these dogs are for everyone. I knew enough about the breed to realize that naming our puppy after the Norse trickster god of mischief was a good idea. If you aren’t prepared for situations like this, you might want to skip over corgis and get yourself an affectionate lap dog:
This sums up corgi ownership…mischief saved only by cuteness
Sometimes you make a choice and feel really good about it. You buy yourself an adorable corgi puppy and bring him home. He is fun and sweet and a good boy. He is the joy on your difficult days, the sunshine when it’s cloudy. And then, one night you’re watching television and look over at your sweet puppy and this is what you see:
The chances of being killed by your corgi are low, but never zero.
Mondays can be rough no matter what. It’s hard to get going again after a weekend. My Mondays are even more sketchy because I have therapy sessions on Monday mornings. Depending on the type of session, I can find myself mentally exhausted before noon on a day when I typically have a ton to do. So, my Monday looked like this today, Dropped Thing 2 at school at 7:45. Drove the 20 miles home. Did a training session with the puppy. Showered. Drove 22 miles back to the city for therapy and did some tough, emotionally draining work there for an hour. Ran to the liquor store for beverages for a party we’re hosting on Thursday. Stopped by the bank. Drove to two stores to knock off some holiday shopping. Made it home by 2. Ate a little lunch, wrapped a couple gifts, and did some laundry. Left at 3 to pick up some items at a store before collecting Thing 2 at 4:15. I arrived home at 5, just in time to let the dog out and greet hubby who picked up takeout for dinner. The rest of my night has been a blur because I am spent, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could have fallen asleep at the dinner table, but I powered through.
Steve and I were discussing tonight that the work weeks in the United States are insane. No one needs to be working 40+ hours per week. Wouldn’t we be a much better, healthier, happier, more relaxed, less bitter and homicidal nation if we worked 32 hour weeks and had a day off mid-week instead of just having two days on a weekend? I mean, I know it’s better now than it was back in the mid-1800s when people had to cut lumber to build their own homes and then dig their own wells and grow all their own food. I get it. We’re pretty cushy with our air fryer ovens and indoor plumbing and all, but it’s all what you’re used to. Our lives go at six million miles an hour these days, and it is taxing. It’s no wonder we live for Fridays and want to run away on Mondays. We are inundated with information and news and bombarded with ads and requests for our attention. And, in the midst of all of this, we try to maintain relationships and households. It’s no wonder pioneer folks had their kids working by age 6. They couldn’t do it all without help either.
I think my corgi puppy, Loki, summed Mondays up best when I tried to capture his photo this morning:
What I have managed to accomplish while my brain has been on hiatus
The past week has been a blur. It seems my head hasn’t had the bandwidth for writing blogs or even thinking, really. I’m overwhelmed. Somewhere between the continuing pandemic, the transitions happening in our family, the addition of a furry ball of love with four short legs and sharpy teeth, and the annual stresses of the holiday season, I find myself a little out of sorts. I think I need a long winter’s nap or a two-week, solo, all-expenses-paid vacation to Bora Bora so I have time for my brain to snap back into place.
If there is good news about any of this, it’s that despite all the craziness I am finally at a place in my life where I know it’s okay to be off. I know I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be cranking out insightful, meaningful pieces daily. I’m allowed to struggle on occasion, to not know what I am thinking, to take a mental break to deal with the business of life and put up a Christmas tree and drive my son to the airport. The last time I wrote my blog every day, I did not acknowledge these things. I made apologies for what I felt was sloppy work. I’m not about that anymore. I’m not here now saying mea culpa to you. I’m here letting you know where my head is right now. I’m telling you that I care about writing, but I also care about honoring my mental and personal space. So this means I am making personal progress and achieving growth. Yay, me.
I even took time to dress my puppy for a photo
Sometimes we have to make compromises in life. Lately, the compromise I’ve been making is less time to write so I can take care of my family and myself. I’m hoping to have some space in my life and my head soon so I can go back to writing about things that make me passionate. For now, though, enjoy the photo of my cute puppers in a holiday bandana because sometimes a post with a photo of a corgi puppy in front of a Christmas tree is the only good we need in the world.
House training a puppy is a lot of work. Loki is 11 weeks old. It feels like we are letting him outside constantly, but he still has a couple accidents a day. I know it is going to take time. We’re trying to be consistent as possible. Honestly, we’re just grateful he sleeps from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. without asking to go out. He is a good boy. And so very handsome. Still, I’ve been reading advice online to determine if I can help the house training process along because, as darling as kids are when they are young and energetic and funny as they experience the world through fresh eyes, every parent just wants to stop talking about pee and poop all day long.
In more than one place, I’ve seen it suggested that you attach bells to your doors to house train your dog. When you take them out, you ring the bell and then when they go potty outside you praise them like crazy. Supposedly, this teaches the puppy to associate the bell with needing to potty outside. Eventually, at some point your dog learns to ring the bell when they want to go out. It’s all very Pavlovian.
I haven’t decided how I feel about this. On the one hand, many people have said it works well, so it might be worth trying. On the other hand, I have to say that with a dog as smart as a corgi is (and man…he is smart), I fear Loki will learn that when he rings the bell, I come running. So, maybe he does learn to ring the bell to go outside, and my house training problem is solved. But then he starts ringing the bell all the time, and I become his butler, running in every time he summons me. Then I have a different problem. I’m conditioned. He’s become Pavlov, and I’ve become the dog.
I might just give him a couple more months grace period on this, time for his tiny bladder to grow while I learn to be more consistent taking him outside. That way he can remain the dog in this scenario, and I don’t start running to open a door every time a bell rings.
Our sweet puppy, Loki, is not-quite-so-little-anymore. He’s 11 weeks old now and has gained almost four pounds since his Fetcha Day four weeks ago. His front paws seem huge, his eyes are darker, and his markings are becoming more pronounced, He has met our neighbor dogs to the south, a golden retriever named Sawyer and his buddy Teddy, a yellow lab. He has zero fear of these dogs who are about 75 pounds heavier than he is. He stands at the fence on his hind legs with his nose to his new friends. He can’t wait to play with them. The neighbor dogs to our north, a Wheaton terrier named Finn and a chocolate-colored schnauzer named Chewie, Loki is not so sure about. They scared him the other day by sneaking up to the fence and barking at him while he was peeing. Loki stopped mid-stream and tore off towards our front door, not looking back but barking complaints the entire way.
Today was Loki’s first opportunity for play time with other dogs. We’d been waiting to take him until we were certain his vaccinations were on track. At his first visit to his new vet on Thursday, he got the necessary shots so we enrolled him in an hour long Playful Pup socialization class in Denver. When we arrived, there was already one dog there, a much larger mixed breed named Vaquita. Not long after we entered, a cattle dog mix named Pablo arrived. There were just three dogs in class today, and six nervous parents hoping their fur babies would play nice. The other dogs dwarfed Loki, but it was obvious from the start that Loki was the least fearful.
Loki and Pablo playing
The dog trainer allowed the two larger, more fearful dogs to meet and figure out their dynamics first, while Loki watched from a safe distance behind a wire gate. Pablo and Vaquita were tense around each other. Their hackles were slightly raised and there was some doggy trash talking and flashing of pearly whites. Steve and I stood there wondering what the hell we had gotten our little guy into. After a while, Pablo and Vaquita began taking breaks from their interactions. The trainer had assessed that Pablo would be a better first meet-up for Loki, so Pablo was allowed into the gated area with Loki. Loki was eager to see what this bigger dog was all about, and Pablo was eager to prove he was the bigger dog. The early doggy tussles had Pablo in the lead, but as the minutes wore on we began to see Loki figuring out how to use his diminutive size to his advantage in play. Pablo and Loki played amicably but vigorously for about 10 minutes until both of them were dog tired. When Vaquita was reintroduced into the mixture, Pablo became protective of Loki. He clearly liked his new playmate and was not keen to share. Loki, for his part, seemed like he could use a nap. Vaquita got a bit aggressive with our tired pup, and Loki did something we hadn’t seen him do before. He scrunched up his puppy nose and bared those piranha teeth to let Vaquita know he was D-O-N-E. The trainer told us Loki had done a great job at his first play date and had earned some rest. So, we said our goodbyes and took our baby home.
Loki don’t play that
I have to hand it to the trainer. She had her hands full today with two larger, more fearful puppies and one tiny, scrappy guy who had been itching for a play opportunity. She didn’t just carefully monitor the puppy language; she also watched the anxious parents who were simultaneously fearful for their babies and fearful their babies might hurt someone else’s baby. She took care of all nine of us without blinking an eye. And I left Loki’s first puppy class feeling both proud of Loki for being a typical, assertive Corgi despite his size and proud of Steve and I for not freaking out when the bigger dogs got a little riled up around our 9 pound boy.
All in all, the day was a great success. We’d started Loki on the path to being a good dog citizen and we’d learned to relax a little about dog interactions ourselves. It’s hard for people who are conflict averse to watch discord, even puppy discord, without feeling uncomfortable. I think we learned as much today as Loki did. And we’re ready to sign him up for another socialization session, which means all three of us grew today and will grow more soon.
Live Now and Zen 