Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud

So.

Yep.

Puppies. Adorable little rascals aren’t they? And sometimes ‘rascal’ doesn’t cover it. Sometimes, you’re watching that clock as though you were in school or at work. Twenty minutes until naptime. That’s just four five minutes. If I can get through ten minutes I’m halfway there. If (s)he can just behave for four minutes five times we can each have a break. Then I can put peroxide on my scrapes and see if there’s any way to reattach a severed pinky. Just nineteen minutes. That’s not even a full four five minutes! Maybe if I get him/her a Kong. Maybe that’d tide him/her over.

Friend, we’ve all been there. Every person who has ever raised a puppy has experienced that. You are not alone.

As you all chose to come and read this, I feel like going into the last few days wouldn’t be out of line.

Friday I came home from swimming to find Yaha’s crate mat all ripped up. This resulted in a trip to our local pet store to get him a new crate pan and a tired puppy (because he didn’t sleep the entire time we were gone) seeing other dogs in the store while there was a storm happening.

Sunday he got to miss my church small group due to heightening overprotective tendencies. (Read as: asking the person petting him what they think of his big boy bark.)

Monday the temptation of the cat crossing our path on our run was to much and he unintentionally sent me into a digger resulting in three mildly bleeding knuckles, a scraped knee, bruised hip, scraped elbow, and a roadburn on the other elbow. Oh, and a dirty and ripped shirt that I liked. All after less than half an hour of being awake.

Today, my finger got caught between his tooth and antler, so there’s another cut to the tally. As well as several unladylike thoughts.

Puppies, right? Love them more than life, but… well, who’s heard the VeggieTales song:

Puppies are cuddly/Puppies are cute/They’re never nasty or mean *sniff*/I’d give a home, to all the lost puppies,/If ever one day I’m a queen! Arf.

Well, I’m claiming here and now that whoever wrote that song had never tried raising a puppy.

All this to say, friend, you aren’t alone. This, too, shall pass.

On the plus side, fireworks aren’t as bad as I had been concerned they’d be.

Neither of you were born to fail.

Love to you all,

Lauryn