Note: This post is the third and concluding post in a series that started with “How to Choose the Perfect Puppy” followed by “My Perfect Puppy – The Arrival of Lupe“. All three posts can be found in the Dingo Tales category on the homepage main menu.
The reader may recall from an earlier post entitled “How to Choose the Perfect Puppy” that I had discouraged my spouse in January, 2011 from even getting a puppy with a rather long list of objections. However, as related in a subsequent post “My Perfect Puppy – The Arrival of Lupe”, I was over-ruled and on February 11, 2011 became the unwilling new co-owner of Lupe, who converted me over in a single evening from not wanting a puppy at all to being delighted at becoming Lupe’s new best friend.
Despite this joyful near instant conversion to Lupe’s side, there was merit to many of the objections I originally presented to getting a puppy. Having Lupe around made for all sorts of interesting new developments, some unforeseen and many others much as I had predicted. My spouse had read a number of books about dogs prior to getting Lupe and worked quite diligently toward training her. I, however, was not much interested in books and training and discipline. I preferred to just have fun with the puppy.
Which do you prefer? Discipline and training, or having fun? Lupe took to my methods like a duck to water, and my spouse’s diligent training efforts suffered because of it. Of course, some of the puppy problems were unavoidable. It took a little while to house-break Lupe, our old cat fled to the basement and lived self-exiled in needless fear, and we had vet and other expenses associated with having a dog. However, some problems were made worse, much worse, by my endless frolicking and rough-housing with Lupe. I was teaching Lupe bad habits. She loved them.
Lupe chewed. She chewed holes in shoes and socks. I egged her on by using old socks for games of tug-of-war with her. As a result, anytime I carelessly left a sock on the floor, it was doomed to destruction at the enthusiastic jaws of the puppy. Many a time I wound up trying to catch Lupe, who had just discovered a perfectly good new and unprotected sock, before she could chew a hole in it.
Lupe thought this was the best game in the world. She raced with a mouthful of sock up and down the stairs, dashing in and out of various rooms, and leading me on a merry chase. When I got too close, she usually disappeared under the bed where she promptly chewed a big hole in her latest victim before I could rescue it. My brother-in-law could scarcely contain his mirth when one day I took off a shoe to unexpectedly reveal four toes sticking out of a huge hole at the end my sock. It was about the best pair of socks I had left.
Lupe ate my feather-filled slippers and feathers were everywhere. Lupe chewed my hands while we engaged in mock battles. She grew so strong I had to get gloves, and then she shredded and devoured the gloves. One day when Lupe was bored, I found her chewing a big chunk out of the drywall in the living room. Lupe chewed holes in pillows which then leaked even more feathers. Nightly she enjoyed ripping the stuffing out of the comforter on the bed and chewing holes in the blankets. I awoke some mornings to find she had eaten embarrassing holes in my pajamas while I slept. With great gusto, Lupe chomped and destroyed the dog toys my spouse got for her.
Chewing wasn’t all that Lupe did, though. Dingoes are high-strung and loud. Lupe right away understood the concept of territory. She barked at anything that came anywhere near the house. She barked at other dogs. She barked at squirrels. She ran full speed barking underneath birds flying over the yard. She barked at our good neighbors, even though they gave her treats. She learned to eagerly await the arrival of the mail lady, and barked in such a frenzy it seemed certain she was going to burst through the front window and go after her.
Lupe had certain fetishes that set her off too. She was deeply suspicious of drapes and attacked them whenever someone attempted to open or close them. She attacked shovels, rakes, the lawn mower and the garden hose. It became impossible to get anything done in the yard when Lupe was around.
Most of the stuff Lupe destroyed was old anyway. No one got hurt, though my hands regularly got roughed up a bit. Through it all, I laughed and had fun playing with Lupe. I followed her path of destruction, picking up after her when needed. I looked on it all as just normal puppy stuff. There was no doubt though that Lupe was guilty as charged. She did most of the stuff I had predicted. What I hadn’t predicted was that I would also be equally guilty right along with her. I was her accomplice and sidekick. Together we led a life of puppy crime and had a great time doing it.
No doubt Lupe would be a better mannered doggie today, if my spouse had been free to discipline and train her without my constant bad influence. Nevertheless, I’m glad it all happened the way it did. I’m pretty certain Lupe is too.
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