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A puppy has just come into my life. Therefore, you can now find me walking around with a haggard “I only got three hours of sleep and there’s poo on the bottom of my new shoes” look. Fletcher’s her name and she’s a Goldendoodle…you read right, Golden…doodle. Just imagine Old Yeller meets that female dog from Lady and the Tramp and that’s sort of a Goldendoodle, or as the neighbor’s kids call her, a “Golden strudel.” I’d have to agree the breed’s name sounds more like a Little Debbie snack cake than a dog, but I digress. I’m sure all dog owners can relate to the abrupt 180-degree change in lifestyle that comes with owning a new puppy. I’m constantly walking around with a spray bottle in hand, poised for the next time Fletcher wants to make a meal out of the coffee table leg. I’m starting to think there’s some subtle brilliance, some “crazy like a fox” quality that gives these beasts the ability to infuriate and render us smitten at the same time. Case and point, Fletcher somehow manages to lock her beautiful brown eyes with mine just as she begins relieving herself on our new hardwood floor, which she usually follows with an inquisitive “Aren’t you going to clean that up now?” look…I’m starting to wonder who’s the boss in this relationship. I’m also getting really sick of her pickiness. Today I stayed outside for ten minutes in twenty degree weather waiting for her to pick just the right spot in the snow to do her “business.” If you’re primitive enough to relieve yourself in the yard, is it not a bit contradictory to be so picky about which patch of grass you choose to fertilize? Her vet says to calm her down a bit, fill her day with exercise and she’ll be exhausted come nightfall…her vet lied.

Every night I take her for a walk to get the mail or buy a six-pack from the corner market. However, our little walks seem to serve merely as an appetizer to the entrée that is terrorizing our new house. The animal experts?…They offer advice…”Reprimand her loudly,” they say…She barks louder. “Swab your furniture with vinegar to keep her from biting it,” they say…Well, it seems Fletcher actually likes the taste of vinegar. All the above said, I must confess, this dog has made me a softy. The sight of a shredded table leg has far less impact on my emotions than a big sloppy lick on the face. This dog knows what she’s doing. Have any new dog owner stories or photos? Feel free to share...misery loves company.
- It rocks!
- Its just stupid.
- Its SPAM.
- Its offensive.
- Nevermind.
Lynda 634 Days agoWhat do you think?
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