Trouble Wags its Tail

by Catherine Canzani

Have you ever made a decision which you knew deep down might forever alter your life? A decision which could have gone either way, but you already knew which way it was going to go even while you pretended to deliberate? It happened to me – and the disruption to our family’s rhythm was far-reaching and immeasurable.

I’ve had this little ache for years – a silly ache really, that goes back to my childhood. I wanted a puppy. Not just any puppy, mind you, but a cute, furry, perfect little puppy that would enrich our lives. I always had dogs growing up – they came with the farm, and I figured it couldn’t be all that difficult. I pictured my son running through the fields with his faithful dog beside him. I never acted on this little ache, however. Since we had three very young children and two cats, I figured it wasn’t the right time.

But one fateful day in early spring, one of my students arrived at school with glowing eyes and a handful of pictures. “My dog Cocotte had puppies last night!” he exclaimed. The whole class gathered around for a look at the pictures. I shouldn’t have even looked, but I did. They were Bernese Mountain Dog puppies mixed with something unknown, but adorable. I ooohed and ahhed with the rest of my class, but I felt quite proud of my resolution that our family was not ready for a puppy, even if they were the cutest puppies on earth. Even if they were Bernese Mountain Dog, my favourite breed. And even if they needed loving homes…

I went home that evening and told my husband about the puppies—he was less than enthusiastic, and I let him know that of course I didn’t actually want one, I just thought they were cute. I mentioned the puppies again the next day, and the next, and the next, but not because I wanted one, of course. My student gave me daily updates on their progress, and the pictures kept coming.

I actually think I might have made it, except that I had to pick up my son at the puppy’s house. My husband was beginning to cave in too. “If they’re really, really cute, bring one home,” he said. I don’t think he thought I would do it.

I did it. All it took was one look at the nine puppies running after their mom, with their little white-tipped, black tails waving frantically, and all of my resolve crumbled around me. They were perfect. I had to have one.

Our lives haven’t been the same since. For the first three months we had to leap over puddles of puppy pee and found unwelcome surprises in the basement. Toys were chewed, furniture was scratched, even the floors had nibble marks in places. But that was the easy part. The puppy wanted to get up at 5:00 every morning. There was no rolling over and going back to sleep as he yipped and whined and barked. He was like a firecracker ready to explode every morning. I would drag myself out of bed, put him on a leash, and set off for a walk. Then he would sit and refuse to budge. “Listen, puppy,” I told him one morning, “If you want early morning excitement, you’ve got it. NOW WALK!” I dragged that poor puppy on a 2 km trek. He slept for the rest of the day, which instead of bringing relief, made me feel guilty.

This went on morning after morning, and I found myself going to bed earlier every night. Before I knew it, our youngest daughter was going into crisis since she was no longer the baby, my husband complained that he was not the one who wanted the puppy in the first place, and my other two children were so tired of being nipped and nibbled on that they would scream and leap onto the couch every time the pup came near them. What had I done to myself?

Oh yes, and that wonderful image of my son running through the field with his dog? It happened, and it was as beautiful and touching as I had imagined, except that we found out that he was rather allergic to grass. He spent the next half hour crying, covered in hives the size of loonies.

Do I regret my decision? Sometimes, but when my now huge puppy comes running up to me with his little eyes glowing, and that white-tipped black tail whipping back and forth, I just have to smile. I’m so glad he’s my dog.