Joys and Frustrations

This was written on Monday, May 7, but I didn't post it at the time due to lack of available photos.  I thought I could quickly crack the code on why one Apple product (MacBook Pro) refuses to upload photos from another (iPhone) due to an unspecified "error"…and I was wrong.  So I'm stuck e-mailing each pic I like from my phone to my gmail, and going through a painstaking process from there, since iPhoto won't recognize the ones I just downloaded.  C'mon...help a brother out, Apple.

As I look at him now, drifting back to sleep all curled up in a ball, it's hard to remember how strongly I felt a couple of days ago about changing course and letting him go up for adoption.  It's not like he couldn't keep his food down; in fact, tonight was the first time I'd yet seen anything come back up through his gullet...and given how many different things he decides are edible each day, that's impressive.  It's not like he's chewing up everything within reach -- not yet, anyway, and since he isn't roaming around unsupervised much at all, the jury's still out on that common habit.  And it's not like he's refusing to sleep through the night…while I grumble sometimes about his wake-up times, he's been doing alright for a critter still younger than three months.  In fact, he's been a pretty ideal puppy all around, house peeing and disobedience aside.  So how could I even consider parting with him, right?

Update time.  He's all stretched out now, back in another one of his favorite poses: head off the doggie bed and on the floor, wolf ears still standing completely straight up from his head, eyes shut tight as if he's forcing them closed, white-socked paws stuck straight forward…he likes to jab with those little mitts, like a sparring partner.  I couldn't get a good shot of it, but trust me, it's adorable.

Anyway, here's more or less what happened: I suffered a crisis of sorts the other day, brought on not by anything the little monkey had done, but by other stuff.  Daly only factored in because as I doubted everything I was doing and not doing, the urge to shelve everything did not mesh with a responsibility like raising a puppy.  And I do not take that responsibility lightly -- which is problematic at times.  If I didn't care so much about how he turns out, I could take a more laissez-faire attitude towards the whole process, rather than fussing about what he's eating off the ground, stressing about whether he's learning fast enough, or giving up my chance to get in a workout because I've got to make sure he gets his exercise in.  And I'm not trying to portray myself as saintly in my initial dog-raising attempt, because I'm far from it.  Hell, I've already worried that through snapping at him, I've screwed up my chance to win his love and loyalty.

It all sounds pretty stupid, I'm sure -- especially to those who've regularly cared for dogs, or simply just grown up with them.  "How can this be so hard?", you probably think.  But I found myself wondering how, on the short side of 40, I'm going to change my ways however I need to to look out for him properly…and honestly, whether I'm willing to prioritize it enough to do so.  There's still an out, in that I haven't officially adopted him yet.  But once again, and after a bout of reconsidering, I'm thinking I don't really have much of a choice.

See duck...Daly's new toy, an immediate favorite.

See Daly attack duck, his favorite activity besides peeing.

See duck's guts and honker. This took only two days.

Those wolf ears perked back up and rotated when I resumed typing just now.  Because even when he's trying to sleep his tired butt off, he doesn't want to miss a damn thing.  And holy hell, does his gas cut some fierce odors through the room!  I still haven't figured out if it's the fancy food I feed him or the treat sticks I reward him with all day.  But he's growing by leaps and bounds, noticeably a lot bigger, longer and heavier at 12 weeks than he was at 10.  He's ridiculously charming, or just so cute that people just can't help themselves, and sometimes even become blithering idiots at the sight of him.  There's a lot more to tell, and in the interest of remembering to do so, his rapidly healing leg, his first big hikes, and his first snow are just a few of them...