Rufus Whistle

So, um, well, this weekend....we got a puppy.  Yes, we got another dog, a baby dog.  And yes, we already have a dog and four kids.  So well, yes, we might be a little crazy...crazy in love.  

Our new puppy is a golden doodle and his name is Rufus Whistle.  

I feel like I need to apologize to people for getting a second dog, just like I used to feel like I did about having a third or, holy hell, a fourth child.  I mean who does that?  Unless you are a millionaire and have help, but even then, who has all those kids AND two dogs?  

We do.  Because it's what is in our heart.  Because our kids wanted another dog.  Because our dog could use a buddy.  Because we have a lot of love to give.  Because we aren't millionaires or anywhere close and we can't take our kids around the world or even to Disney World, but we can get them another dog to love and help take care of.  

We were worried about our two-year-old lab, Cosi, liking Rufus.  Cosi isn't what you would call a calm dog. You might call her anxious and excitable. I call her misunderstood and lovable.  We can all now call her patient and amazing because she handles Rufus wonderfully.  She is calm with him, gives him a warning when he gets too in-her-face and walks away when she's had a little too much.  

I think it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

This past weekend we spent a lot of time cuddling and resting and sleeping, just like with a new baby.

I swear I have a picture of Tim like this with every one of our kids when they were babies.

Rufus got a taste of our very busy, active life, he went with us to a basketball practice and a family hockey game.

It's not all perfect.  He cries in his crate all night long.  It's a lot of work, a lot.  Right after we brought Rufus home, JT fell on the ice and we thought he broke his arm so we took him to the emergency room (just a bad bruise, no break).  We are all really tired. But we'll figure it out.  

Looking around my very full living room full of kids of all ages, an exhausted but handsome husband trying to nap on the floor and our two dogs, it all just makes my heart feel so full and my world just feel right.  

No more apologies, it's not everyone's dream, but it's ours.

If you want to see more pictures of Rufus come follow me on Instagram- @JumpingWithMyFingersCrossed

I don't really know how it happened, but I became someone who loves her dogs. It's kind of crazy, but also kind of great.

Not Giving Up

I was sitting downstairs, listening.  It was night time.  There was a knock at the door, muffled voices.  They were being quiet on purpose.  I felt nervous and confused.  

"We'll take good care of the dog," I could hear a woman saying.  And then quiet.  Nothing.

I cried before I knew what was really going on.  Then my mother came downstairs and told me people had come to take Smokie, our puppy.  "It was just too much, we couldn't take care of her," she told me lovingly searching my eyes for understanding.

"You gave away my dog?," I asked in shock.  I knew she was trouble, but my god, giving the dog away?  That's serious.  That's forever.  I was horrified, devastated, nervous and confused.  I felt guilty (I was an advanced 8-year-old and felt guilt and anxiety like a boss).

"How could you just....give up on him?," I begged for an answer through my tears.  "I'm sorry. I'll walk her more.  I'll play with her more.  I'll be better."

For the past 30 years, I've thought about that night every now and then with such sadness and judgement.  "How in the hell could my parents have done that?!" I thought.  I've thought that until we got our new puppy this spring.  And now, I have a whole lot more compassion for my parents.

Cosi is our puppy.  She does puppy things.  She chews on everything, she nips, she wants to play all.the.damn.time.  She sheds, she whines, she smells, she needs to go out a lot.   She's just being a puppy, a dog.

Being the only one home all the time and in charge of her along with the four kids has made me pretty grumpy.   I've texted my husband so many times saying "getting Cosi was the worst mistake of our lives" and "I'm not an animal person."  I've sworn more in front of my kids in the last three months than the last 11 years.  I do a lot of complaining.

After eating a 500 million berries that fell from a Mullberry tree we didn't realize we had in our backyard and getting an upset stomach (that's a nice way of saying she couldn't stop pooping), it was just too much for all of us.

"I put feelers out to give Cosi away," my frustrated, tired husband informed me.  "Someone wants her and they want to pick her up tonight at 6:30."

I was speechless.  It was 1982 all over again.  I was horrified, devastated, nervous and confused.  I cried.  "Oh my god, I'll walk her more, I'll play with her more, I'll be better," I told my husband through tears.  "I just complain to vent, I'll be better.  We can't...[sob, sniffle, sob]...give up on her."

JT and Cosi, best friends.

My mind raced. I wondered if I was doomed to repeat patterns, repeat history.  Shortly after my parents gave my dog away, they got divorced.  In my arrested emotional development's point of view (which arrested around the age of 12), they gave up on us.  Yeah, there it is, spoken like a true product of a broken home.  Waaaaa.  Was this how it all started?  With a really unruly puppy?  (There's that 12-year-old over simplification thing I do really well.)

I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, "We are not giving up on this puppy or us."  

Tim looked at me funny, like "us? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Okay, I didn't see this coming, but okay," he said.  "And hon, we're fine."  And then he hugged me. And we both made a plan to be more patient with Cosi and make more time for her.

The kids had overheard most of what happened.  They were all relieved that we weren't giving away their puppy.  I was relieved I didn't have to have that oh-so-memorable talk with them.  

"This is a good thing Mom," Peyton said to me.  "I mean, Youngbloods don't quit, isn't that our thing?"

Years ago, Tim had said that was our family motto in a moment of trying to be Super Hero/Motivating Coach/Hard Nose, Yet Loving Dad.  And I guess it sort of stuck.

This experience has made my compassion quadruple for people and families that have to give up their puppy because of life circumstances and whatever reasons.  It's not an easy decision and I can't/won't judge.  Sometimes people have to give up, let go, quit their jobs, their pets, their marriages.  Sometimes it is what has to happen.  Sometimes it is better, of course.

But it's not for us.  I am on a path to make my own mistakes, my own patterns, my own history with my own family and my own puppy--giving up ain't my story.

Whether Cosi likes it or not, she's part of this wacky gang.

Cosi can't leave, she has a buddy next door!

We're keeping her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't owe me an apology for the sh*t she chews up.  Here's what I have to say about that:

Puppy Love Post #1: Snake Bit

Since getting a puppy over a month ago all I can say is....I'm tired.

No here's the thing, puppies are cute, but they are a lot of work.  It's like parenthood on speed.  You only have a few short months before the puppies are full grown and full of bad habits.  If anything, my puppy is making me appreciate how much more time I have to make up for all the mistakes I make with my kids.  But all of it is a lot of pressure.

And really, I didn't need more pressure.  I didn't need yet another reminder that I don't have it all together.  And that's what having my puppy can feel like sometimes, like the sometimes when I'm trying to get all the kids out the door to school and she pees on the floor.  Or the sometimes I'm reading a story to Wade and she whimpers and whines that no one is on the floor with her.

Honestly, I was at my wit's end, ready to wave my white flag and give up.  I was ready to admit to what a lot of people were thinking, I couldn't handle four kids and a puppy. Waaaa.

But then, I watched my kids with our little puppy Cosi.  I put my flag away and committed to raising this puppy.  Because Cosi is part of our family.  

Honestly, she fits right in with us.  Thankfully no one else is peeing on the floor, but we are all trying to get attention, be loved, show love, enjoy life and be a part of everything just like our little puppy.  

To make it easier to remember why I love my sweet little Cosi, I will be doing a monthly Puppy Love Post.  A post where I share a warm and fuzzy story about Cosi.  A post with a sweet picture.  I mean, puppies/dogs in general could use more space on the kitten/cat-obsessed-focused Internet. 

"That boy is snake bit," my husband said the other day sounding like a character from a 1950s coming-of-age cowboy novel or movie.  

He was referring to our son JT and what he said is a little bit true.  If something bad happens in our family, it usually happens to JT.  Autoimmune disease? Check.  Broken arm while picking strawberries? Check.  Speech delay? Check.  Being in the wrong place at the wrong time when your baby brother is swinging a curtain rod wildly and it hits your head? Check.  Concussion after the basketball game? Check.  And I could go on and on.

JT is also the kid in our family who has connected most to Cosi.  When he gets home from school he tells her he missed her.   He plays catch with her after the other kids have had enough and go inside.  He hugs her good-night before heading upstairs to bed. 

In some ways, the story of JT and the puppy is like a 1950s book.  It's a story of a boy and his dog, loyal pals.  I love that even though he might indeed be a little snake bit, he's always got somebody (else besides Tim and me) in his corner giving him unconditional love.

Got a puppy story? Want to share?  Let me know if you'd be interested in sharing your Puppy Love Post.  Leave a comment or send me an email to youngbloodsix@yahoo.com.

The Puppy

We got a puppy.

The puppy's eyes are the only ones you can see in this picture.   We're doing the super squinty, happy smile.  The puppy looks a little scared.

I'm not really a puppy person or an animal person.  I've mentioned my feeling about cats before (and got some major flak, cat people can be so catty).  But my family talked me into it.  Actually my husband, suggested either a puppy or a baby.  So, we got a puppy.

And because we I am obsessed with Les Miserables, we I named her Cossette.  Cosi for short.

I don't see anything wrong with naming a dog after a character from a musical. Especially if the theme of that musical is compassion and love and faith and goodness--"to love another person is to see the face of God."

On the ride home, JT and Cosi bonded.

When we drove away with our new little Cosi, I had the music all cued up for the perfect song from the soundtrack.  The song is The Bargain and the lyrics go something like this:

"Cossette shall live in my protection....
I shall not foresake my vow...
Cossette shall have a father now!"

We changed "father" to "family."  Too much?  Oh it was so sweet.


Singing the song, romanticized getting a puppy just like people do with having babies.  Yeah, puppies and babies are cute and sweet, but they are also a hell of a lot of work.  And they are gross.  But you know what?  None of my babies ever ate a dead mole.  And yeah, my puppy did that the other day.  It has me totally rethinking the whole baby/puppy decision.

Yesterday after school, the kids came home begging to take Cosi out for a walk.  So they leashed her up and set off down the driveway.

"She found a rat!," I heard my son yell.

"What?!?!?!?!"  I came running outside.  "What the hell? Oh my god, shit, damn, oh my god," I yelled because I am the queen of calm, always.

"It's not a rat, it's a dead mole," my oldest son informed me.

"Get it out, oh my god that's so gross!" I screamed.  "Get it out of her mouth! Oh Jesus, she's eating it! Oh shit. No!!!!!! Call your father!!!"

Well, it's been a long few days.  

I should have remembered this whole house training thing, the sleepless nights, the chewing on EVERYTHING (even dead animals).    You see, right after Tim and I got married we got a puppy, Al.  He was our first baby.  But I forgot how it was those first few months, it's a blur, just like all of my babies first few weeks (it's that way for everyone right?).

I simply remember Al as the greatest dog that ever lived.  I hated that he shed like crazy and never once chased squirrels out of our yard (because you know how I feel about squirrels!).  But I loved how he was the kindest, most gentle of dogs.  He was my first crack at real responsibility of another living creature besides my spider plant (that I guess anyone can keep alive).   He was my buddy as I battled demons of depression during my first pregnancy, he gave me comfort when I thought no one would understand.  And he loved my babies, he loved all of us.  

When he died, I swore off dogs and became more of a non animal person.  But after five years and my kids and my husband begging, I gave in and we have a puppy. 

I found this quote quite amusing since I posted a pic of my new puppy on Facebook and it got more "likes" than the announcement pic of my fourth baby.  People love dogs.

A puppy that will become the dog that my kids remember.  The dog that will comfort them through dark days of middle school and high school when they don't feel like anyone understands. 

This will be the dog that Peyton says good-bye to when he heads to college in about 7 years. Gulp. How can that be?

The dog that goes to their baseball games and races.  The dog that they take for walks through the park and play fetch with in the backyard.  They will grow up together.

Cosette will be the dog that helps teach and reinforce the lessons of compassion and love and responsibility.  

But first, Cossette has to be the puppy that eats dead moles and pees in the house.  And that's okay, I guess.  

Just like if we had a baby, Tim and I are playing the Who Has It Worse Game.  Do you know that game?  Tim has been working late all week and it's been rough.  He dared to say his meetings were worse. Um, whaaaat?  I set him straight.

Woo-hoo I win! Wait, I don't want to win this one. Waaa.