Today the peace and tranquility that I’ve been working on for years is about to end. Today, the nightmare arrives in my home… not in the form of a grisly, eyeless zombie or in the form of a gargantuan flying spaghetti monster… this will be in the form of a puppy.

But puppies are so cute, and friendly, and happy to be near you, why would you call something so cute a nightmare?

If you remove the cute façade, what’s left? A hyper-active annoyance that shits and sheds and whines all night long. No thanks.

My wife, after voluntarily moving her dogs outside used to remark how much healthier her dogs looked and how much cleaner the house smelled with them in their palacial doghouse I created for them. However, after the last of her old dogs were gone, she immediately started hatching plans for a replacement.

This time, however, the dog would be an indoor dog.

Ugh. Here comes the smell, here comes the shit clinging to the feet as it returns from the yard, here comes a puppy who’ll chew on anything… edible or not. Being allergic to dog spit and dander also doesn’t help endear them to me, but I either have to live with this nightmare, or live with a mopy wife who wants one. Which is worse?

I came home to the announcement after my four year old told me that they had already picked out a name for the puppy. What am I suppose to say to that one?

I’m trying to look on the bright-side of this addition… its barks will scare away intruders… not as well as a good house alarm will, and not as economically either.

The kids will love spending hours playing with the dog… if the expensive doll my daughter wanted and couldn’t live without and begged for it for 5 months is any indication of her attachment to the dog, she’ll play with it for almost a week.

It will be great to go on walks with… whether you want to go for a walk or not. It rains a lot up here in the Pacific Northwest, and nothing wakes you up more than having to go on a walk through the rain because you have a dog. Of course, it will be really pleasant to take the dog on a walk on summer evenings, and then have to pull the dog out from fights with other dogs… yes, very relaxing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love animals. I just don’t want to live with them. I want them free and wild … or at least in their own domain. I just don’t want to be responsible for them. So, this is why to me, this little black puppy is sure to be nothing short of a nightmare.

Robert just wrote me and gave me the following advice:

Actually, it’s a bit of the opposite in our house. My wife dreaded the day we got a dog. I, having grown up with dogs, loved the addition to our family. We went to the SPCA and looked at three dogs. One was extremely anxious. It paid little attention to us, and I suspect that was a result of it having been brought in a few days before.

The second dog we saw was very cute. When we spent some time with it outside, it sat quietly by our side. I liked the dog a lot, but given its cuteness and the fact that it had just been brought in the night before and we were among the first to look at it, I was pretty sure the dog would be adopted.

The third dog we looked at was— well, the best way to describe him is to say he was resigned to his fate. He’d been at the SPCA for just about a month. Our local SPCA does not have a no-kill policy. When they need the space, they select the dog that’s been there the longest and least likely to be adopted, and…

This third dog was just about at the end. he was about a year old, a mix of Catahoula Leopard and German Shepard. When we approached the cage the thing that drew me to him was simply that he walked over, sat down, and put his back to the cage so I could pet him.

This was a dog in need. He went home with us. We kept the name his previous owner had given him because it seemed to fit— Murphy. Today he’s a happy dog. He lived inside for about a year and a half, and we finally started letting him spend more and more time outside. Finally, he became a full time outdoor dog. He sleeps in the garage in the evenings and chases squirrels and birds all day long.

Can’t say I have any really advice on how you can continue to enjoy your life with a dog when you really don’t want one, but perhaps— if it isn’t too late— you can find a way to adopt an animal in real need. Perhaps it’ll make walking the dog in the rain, feel a little less like a bother and a little bit more like you’re continuing to make a difference in the dog’s life.

Good luck, Btw, you can see a picture of Murphy over on my blog.

Thanks for the kind words, and I would prefer getting an older dog like that… especially one that would enjoy the great outdoors. But my wife is concerned that unless she gets a puppy that she can train, she wouldn’t feel comfortable with the dog’s interaction with the babies. I’m not sure I agree, but we’ll see how it goes.

Of course, you are now expecting me to post a sequel… sorry, but I sometimes forget that you’re here. You see this is an egotistical online journal, written by me for me, and you, gentle reader, often become… well, how shall I put it… and after-thought. Please don’t take it personally.

But your request has not fallen on a heart of tissue paper, so allow me to tell you about our first night. Now if this was Hollywood, I would have fallen in love with the puppy, rose petals would decend, and Danny Elfman would do the soundtrack… I suppose if this was a sitcom, the puppy’s enthusiasm would knock over the dining table, and I would have fallen head-first into a wedding cake… however, our night wasn’t too bad.

The puppy looks and acts like a black lamb. Granted, she’s scared, but she didn’t have that over-enthusiasm that exceeds annoyance and borders on damaging. Even her whine is quite soft. She is also not a licker… a good thing considering I’m allergic to dog spit.

Although my daughter begged to have the dog sleep with her, the puppy had to sleep in our room, so that my wife could care for it in case it needed to be let out. While I had a very mild asthma wheeze, it wasn’t too bad, and was probably due to the colds my family is fighting right now.

My wife, however, kicked me out of bed on account of my snorring, so I slept in the basement… where I got better sleep without all of the commotion of a puppy in a box and a baby in the crib… and a wife paying attention to both. The house does smell like puppy, but it does mean that when I fart, I have one more scapegoat to blame the odor on.

I’m now trying to get Danny Elfman on the phone about a soundtrack…