Today, the terrible one is on two feet is me.

We are at a frustrating point of training. This isn’t Percy’s fault. He is a terror, yes. However, the fault fully lies on my shoulders. I lack patience. That’s the nice way to put it. If you want the honest truth, starving newborns have more patience than I do. Sugared- up, Mickey Mouse obsessed toddlers at their first trip to Disneyland have more patience than I do.

I want Percy to understand what I want him to do and not have to keep repeating things over and over and over. I want him to “down” and stay down and not imitate an overwound jack in the box.

I don’t want to have to hand feed him every meal and I don’t want to have to use a special training collar and I don’t wa0nt to have to spend another month in the basic level class.

But, I don’t want to give up. He is worth it. He is worth searching the depths of my being for the last scraps of patience that I managed to secret away after a day of dealing with teenagers who are done for the year. Few of them also mean to drive me to distraction; its just a side effect of 16.

I have been so focused on trying to be what my kids need me to be that I think I have neglected my sweet, crazy boy. I am not as understanding as I need to be with a creature who wants to do what I ask. I am also not as forgiving and calm with myself as I should be.

I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know how to change a basic tenet of me. It is probably one of those traits I would be most likely to change about myself. When I was younger, I wanted to be thinner and prettier. Now that I am older, while being thinner and prettier would be awesome, what I really want is patience to help people more. I want the patience to make the changes that I need to make personally and professionally. I want the patience wait for those rewards that require my effort and work.

I love to make plans so I will finish my night making plans for success. I’m not sure if it will work since I seldom follow my plans, but maybe I can put post-it notes around my house telling myself to breathe, start over, change takes time, etc. Pinterest is probably full of those inspirational type things. Maybe I can go old-school and write “I will not lose my temper and say bad words” one hundred times.

Maybe Percy and I can just take a night and do something fun. Maybe we won’t do any work tomorrow night on his sit/stay and down/stay. Maybe we’ll play catch with carrots and I will give him a new blanket to shred. Maybe I’ll make the boys a bowl of popcorn and throw it up in the air and they can eat the “snow” in the living room. Then, as a treat to myself, I’ll make the teenager and preteen clean up any leftover mess (not likely to be much of one with these bottomless pits).

Maybe tomorrow I will take a page out of Percy’s book and not be normal. I’m too old to sit on my head like he does, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something. I’m done whining now. If you stuck around to read this mess, thank you for your patience. If you didn’t, I still think you are awesome but you just won’t know it.

Percy sits on his head — Percy is a smart boy but he can’t seem to figure out how to use a sofa. This is how he sits when he wants a snuggle

Sometimes the hard thing is the right thing.

Today, I keep thinking about something I have regularly seen on social media and I may have miscommunicated myself in my post about Drake. I don’t believe that all people who give up their pets are horrible people. Sometimes, giving up your pet is the best thing for both the pet and the family. Sometimes it is necessary and sometimes it isn’t.

I have known people who had to give up a pet because of illness, financial struggles, aggression issues, or just because it isn’t a good fit for the family and the animal. In no way am I advocating just dumping an animal or disposing of it like trash. Most of those people I have known who have had to rehome an animal made sure that it went somewhere that it was a better fit and the animal would be well cared for and loved.

Sometimes a shelter or rescue is the right move. It allows the animal to be safe and cared for and the opportunity to experience love and kindness. This decision is never one that should be made lightly. There are certainly reasons that I tend to judge as frivolous for getting rid of a pet. Of course, my judgement doesn’t mean anything in the long run. How I feel really doesn’t matter. What I do, I hope, does matter.

I will support shelters and rescues as much as I can. I can donate a bag of food regularly, support fundraisers, and volunteer when I am not in school. I can listen before I make someone feel bad when they believe that they have done all they can and need to find someone else to love and care for their furry friend.

My pets help me love more (even the cat who is probably a demon in disguise). I have a lot more to learn from them and I will try to always do what is best for them. I hope when people are at the right point in their lives, they get to experience the same wonderful feelings I have felt from my pets. In the past, I haven’t always been the best pet parent I could be and I am still not there but I am more conscious about trying to be better. Now that I am older, and I hope a little wiser, I want to keep improving and trying to be better than I was the day before.

I will love you, forever; I will like you most of the time.

Drake and Haas come from a wonderful rescue. It is entirely foster based and they do a really good job making sure the dogs are healthy and go to the families where the dogs will be happiest. We actually drove an hour one way to meet Drake because I believe in this group so much.

All we knew about Drake was that he was about 8 months old and had survived parvo. I don’t know much else about Drake’s background, and I really don’t think I want to know, based on his behavior. I think it must have been pretty unpleasant.

When we feed Drake, he sometimes has to be escorted to the dish and told that it is okay for him to eat. If the other boys are nearby, he won’t go without an escort. We were feeding him before the others but now we can generally just tell him he has permission. Otherwise, he flinches any time someone comes near him.

For the first few months, any time the big boys would come to snuggle, Drake would find a spot on the other couch to watch and look sad. He would sit in our spots when we got up, but it has only been recently that he would hop up to sit next to me for some love.

Recently, the Mayor of Angstville spent the night with friends in another town and needed a lift back home in time for that most exciting 6 month dental cleaning. Since it is about a 30 minute drive, I decided to take one of the boys for a car ride. Haas is Oldest Child’s favorite so I was tempted to take him. He loves car rides. Percy tends to be my baby so I thought about taking him. He loves car rides. But…Youngest Child (who is supposed to be Drake’s person) had been gone a lot so I thought I would take Drake. Drake doesn’t love car rides. I wanted him to see that car rides aren’t always to no fun places like the vet and the groomer.

Drake drooped as soon as we got in the car. He sat in the front seat but not restfully. Then, he put a paw on my shoulder. Drake whined a little and I gave him a scratch behind the ear. For 20 miles, Drake kept his paw on my shoulder and I wondered if he thought he was going to be given away again.

Since Oldest Child and I tend to have our best conversations about life, musicals, school, and the future in the car, I figured maybe I should have a talk with Drake.

I told him:

“I love you, bud. We aren’t getting rid of you. You are ours now and you will be ours forever. We won’t let you go. We aren’t sending you away. We love you.”

I know he doesn’t really understand what I said to him. I think he got the tone of voice and somehow I think he got the meaning. On the way back, he sat in the backseat and settled into a resting position. He still looked out the windows but I don’t remember any whining.

In the last few days, Drake has been sitting with me more and more. Since he has put on some height, I sometimes have to check to see if it is Percy or Drake. Most of the time it is easy because Drake sits like a normal dog and Percy sits on his head with his butt up in the air.

As I was writing about my pig boy, Youngest Child came out of her bedroom because Drake flopped down on her head and broke the child’s glasses. I still love him and I even still like him.

I am officially THAT dog owner.

These terrors on four feet have had quite the weekend. Between a doggy birthday party, a charity dog walk, training class, two new crates, and today’s grooming session, we are starting off Spring Break with a bang.

Percy turned 1 on Friday so I gave in to temptation and may have gone overboard on a doggy birthday party. Since we tend to adopt rescues, it is rare that we know when the dog is born. (Drake and Haas will have an adoption day party in February so they don’t feel left out)

C05CA50D-9A7A-4A56-B8C5-74930470F481 — Peanut butter and carrot pupcakes with bacon sprinkles and some dog safe ice cream.

Oldest Child baked pupcakes and decorated them with peanut butter frosting and bacon sprinkles. Youngest Child picked out dog ice cream and Mom bought party hats and streamers. We even invited one set of grandparents who possibly humored us because there was dinner first. (The rest of the grandparents live too far away and think I may be a trifle puppy obsessed.)

520E92BB-9733-40BA-9F17-4726CB25DD0C Percy loved it! I loved it! The kids laughed. Dad sighed but said the pupcakes weren’t bad. The hats didn’t last but Percy thought they were good fun to carry around.

Then, on Saturday, Percy and I went to a dog walk set up by one of the seniors where I teach. We have this super amazing teacher who set up senior projects that students design to benefit the community, the school, or themselves. This year, one of the students decided to raise money for a local dog rescue. This was Percy’s first venture out into public where many dogs would be present. He was a bit vocal at first but quickly settled down. We were both excited to meet some of the other dogs from my department even if Percy was a little intimidating.

D84DA867-A17B-4479-BAB2-C47E0514FBDF — Lavender

07571D99-0037-44D8-9988-CE8432FFBE56 — Lavender and Ingrid with Percy wondering why they don’t love him.

Percy thought the best part was when he got to hang out with the girls’ soccer team. They were on their way to a jamboree and were a captive audience to my attention hog. He was shameless. Percy played up the big eyes and held court with about 6 young ladies until it was time for training class.

In class, the excitement caught up with poor Percy’s stomach. Now, in two out of three class periods, they have had to get the mop out for both ends of Percy. I sure hope we keep getting to go back…

On Sunday, Haas and Drake got new crates. Well, to be fair, Haas got a new and bigger crate and Drake got Haas’s hand-me-down crate. Now my living room looks like the animals broke out of the zoo. The crates take up an entire wall. When the doors are standing wide open, I suspect guests wonder what kind of creatures require cages that large. I try to get the guests out of the way before the stampede toward the food bowls happen. I haven’t lost a guest yet. Of course, I am a bit of an introvert so there aren’t many guests, but I still stand by my perfect record!

We are starting the week with clean and good smelling boys. My groomer is a super hero and willing to take all three boys at once. I really don’t tip her enough for making my boys so handsome.

CFCBC16A-3306-4B0B-A6DD-C31A33821301 — Drake was a bit tired after his first trip to the groomer.

We wish you a wonderful week with lots of puppy love from our family to yours!

My, what big teeth you have!

We love rescue dogs. Almost all of our dogs are or have been rescues and mutts are our favorites. Our first family dogs were a schnauzer/basset mix that we picked up at the local shelter. They were adorable little fluff balls who grew into rather homely (if not regularly groomed) dogs. They were awesome though. We loved their sweetness and personality.

Since we know where Percy comes from, we are pretty sure about his lineage. Percy is a Labrador Retriever and Chesapeake Bay Retriever mix. He has webbed toes. It’s kinda cool. He is also a very handsome boy who is obsessed with playing in the rain. Percy adores all water that doesn’t come with dog shampoo.

I am sitting nicely and I am all dry. Can I please go back out in the rain?

Drake is a little different. When we adopted him, he was listed as a lab mix. I could believe part of it. From his build and bark, I imagine that he is also part hound of some sort. The other parts (I know are not scientifically possible but I teach lit so I can suspend disbelief) I think some science fiction mad scientist or fantasy magician created. He appears to be part pig and part shark.

Evidence (that wouldn’t stand up in court):

Drake constantly makes a snorting/snuffling noise like a small pig. He has no known sinus issues.
Drake roots around in the ground and constantly has a line of dirt on his nose that make it resemble a pig snout.
Drake eats everything, animal, vegetable, mineral, and fabric.
Drake has incredibly sharp teeth and they often show.
Drake shreds every (stuffed) animal he comes across, especially if it is losing innards.

I speculate that Haas is mixed with horse. I know his breeds are big (from appearance, we believe Irish Wolfhound and Bernese Mountain Dog), but he was as big or bigger than the miniature horses that lived next door to his foster family. He also likes to rear up on the hind legs and try to nuzzle our faces for affection. His weird feature is extra toes. I have no idea where they come from.

Teenager is smaller than Haas. Their attitudes are about the same size, though.

In reality, it wouldn’t matter if those mixtures were actually true and not just Monday-and-I-don’t-feel-well musings. I love my boys. They drive me nuts and make a huge mess. They are stubborn and take forever to train and feed. They also give the best snuggles and the happiest greetings, even when Mom comes home in a bad/sickly mood.

I am sure purebred dogs are just as wonderful and have amazing traits that my boys would never have. I think everyone who can and wants to have a dog should have that perfect fit. For us, that perfect fit is the horse dog, the webbed toed rain dancer, and the pig dog. They are all terrible and amazing and I wouldn’t trade them for even a luck dragon.

Our report card said “F-“

Last year, I started doing a project in my classes where the students were able to spend about 20% of our time learning about whatever they wanted and designing their own projects. I did the project along with them and made a quilt. It was great! (The project was great. My quilt was sad-looking but I was still proud of it.)

This year, my project was Percy. I thought I might work on training him so that maybe, someday, he would be a therapy dog and help out my kids. I know it will be a few years but he needs to be trained. This will be great! It will be awesome! I can be efficient and train my boy at the same time I am showing my students that we should always learn! (In September, I still think in exclamation points. In February, I think in tears.)

The first trainer I talked to seemed a little hesitant to work with a then-intact lab puppy. She agreed to show up at our house and help us train my well-meaning sweetheart. She never showed up. She never called. Things then got a little hectic as the holiday season advanced so I put off finding a replacement.

As the project was progressing and I needed to move forward, I looked into a training center in another town (because apparently you have to belong to a secret society to find a trainer in my town). It was a bit more expensive but they claim that I should be able to get Percy through six levels of training in 6 months. Percy should then be awesome at obedience. Sounds good. I can do this. Percy can do this. We can do this, together!

Saturday morning, we are ready to go. I got Percy leashed up, we stopped for treats because I forgot to bring them in my excitement, and it was finally time. We had this.

When I got there, the trainer told me that Percy didn’t have the right collar for training so she lent me one. Oops. Oh, well. We will listen and be model students. We aren’t going to be that kid. We find an empty spot on the floor and the trainer goes over different types of collars and talks about the different levels and that it is fine that there are brand new people today.

It was time to make the dogs sit on our left and then walk around cones. I take a step and Percy takes off, dragging me behind him, even with the different collar. We get maybe halfway around the room and the trainer stops everyone. We have to drop down to something more basic. I don’t know that it was our fault, but Percy was the only one who kept dragging a grown woman 5 feet in every direction away from where he was supposed be sitting.

Then, it happened. In the midst of a class of a dozen dogs and handlers, Percy decides that this is the perfect place to drop a few pounds. I was mortified and didn’t have a bag. The whole class has to stop again as we find a bag and a mop.

Class resumes and we make it 1/4 of the way around the room and the whole class has to stop again. Percy had decided to force me to meet every dog waiting for the next level class. The entire group is told about additional, private, lessons that are offered in case things weren’t explained so that people could understand them. Was that aimed at me? Probably.

Homework for this week is to hand feed the dog right next to us (gross) to help teach the dog to heel and work on sit and down. I don’t think we are supposed to work on walking on the leash but it was hard to hear over the sound of all of the blood rushing to my cheeks.

Looks like we are going to summer school.

You’re in my spot.

Some of my classes don’t have a seating chart and some of my classes are assigned to a table. No one has a required “spot” but everyone sits in the exact same place every day. If someone takes their spot, woe unto the intruder.

It’s the same way at my house. Mom has a spot. Dad has a spot. Oldest child had a spot until the dogs came. Now the boys are in a power struggle to claim their own “spots” in the living room.

Percy wants to sit next to me, always, so his spot is the middle of the couch. Drake and Haas like to try to sneak in when Percy isn’t looking and they generally get about 3 minutes before Admiral Jealousy finds a way to move the competition. Sometimes it is with the theft of a favorite toy, sometimes it is wedging a shoulder in and pushing, sometimes it is causing enough trouble that all of them get kicked outside. With any of those methods, no one else is in his spot.

Haas taking advantage of Percy’s inattention and getting snuggles with Mom. Percy stopped this one by sitting on Haas.

The new boys are still in a “spot” struggle. They are vying for Oldest Child’s place on the big couch. Oldest child doesn’t deign participate and often resides in teen cave so it isn’t a three way competition.

The struggle was real this weekend when Drake took 2 full minutes to circle and find the perfect relaxation position in Oldest Child’s spot. He was stretches out and happy looking. After just a short time, there is a bit of a cry and I see that giant Haas (who has a good 40 or 50 pounds on Drake) is flopped down on top of Drake while Drake squirms and fights for air and freedom. Fortunately, my littlest boy is more agile and was able to quickly get free. I don’t think this was the end of the war, though. My little shark may get his spot, yet.

The kid/dog couch has enough room for all three of those monsters.

We all have bad days.

I have good boys. They are really good boys when I am holding some sort of food. They sit quietly and make eye contact. I am pretty sure they are also trying to communicate their “goodboyness” telepathically much like I try to telepathically get my husband to bring me ice cream on a Saturday night. (He isn’t a good boy and seldom brings me ice cream, but, whatever.)

I have had such good boys that I had even thought that it was time to maybe test letting them stay out of their crates when people were sleeping or at work. After the last few days, I still love them but they won’t be allowed free rein any time soon.

Maybe it’s the weather, but several bad habits have resurfaced in the last few days. Three pieces of mail have been shredded, a kitchen towel (how in the world did they get a kitchen towel when they aren’t allowed in the kitchen??) has been ripped to tiny pieces, and they absconded with Dad’s yicky, dirty socks.

Today was a stormy mess and so they weren’t able to get rid of some of their extra energy. Maybe, just maybe, they aren’t incorrigible and the storm is why they have gotten grounded for life today. Before Dad went to work, they had the opportunity to stay out of the crate for 10 whole minutes before Mom and younger humans came home. That didn’t happen. Instead, the terrible trio stole one of my shoes and ran outside. This caused Dad to have to go outside and be the angry participant in a game of keep away. (Here, I have to be honest and admit that I would have liked to have seen that and had a bit of a giggle.) Because of this, they lost 20 minutes of freedom and had to go to bed. Bummer.

We’re sorry, Mom! Let us in the kitchen and we won’t eat anything we aren’t supposed to eat!

And then Percy regressed. I don’t know it was Percy, to be fair, but based on the offense, it’s pretty likely. Frustrated youngest child came in with two dollars, or rather one full dollar and pieces of another dollar that had been retrieved from Haas’s droolly face. Oldest child wasn’t missing money. Youngest child stashes the money in a secret hiding place. Where did the money come from? Very mysterious. Also, as a teacher, I could use a mysterious source of money. I could buy so many pencils and books, and… oh wait, youngest kid pulls another dollar from a slobbery dog face.

“That’s three dollars! Where did they get three dollars?” kid asks.

Then, I remember. I had three dollars floating loose in my purse. I never have money, and apparently, I still don’t. Those stinkers went through my purse! Ugh. These boys.

Breathe. Be kind. Repeat.

Teenagers are frustrating, whether canine or human. Neither want to listen and both require more patience than I have today.

Here is Drake, ready for a nap. It is hard to remember they are still technically puppies until I see this face.

The lack of patience is my own failing. I knew what I was getting into both with the profession as well as the dogs. Neither group is “bad” and both act according to their natures. Not being naturally patient, or kind, I have to struggle sometimes with my nature to be who I need to be for both groups.

Weighing on my mind today is a piece of advice one of my favorite high school teachers gave me when I was student teaching. She told me that it was better to be kind than to be right. I really (like obnoxiously so) like to be right. I need to be kind.

My frequently misbehaving furry friends need kindness. They need me to forgive them them for trying to eat the half filled out scoring guide I was using to grade an essay. They need me to gently repeat, over and over and over, the lesson that humans don’t play by biting and nipping. They need kindness in redirecting their long-contained energy away from rowdy play on the couch. It is a kindness to teach them boundaries and proper behaviors and to do this in the most compassionate way possible. They also need me to remember that they are puppies, even if they are in big bodies.

They know they aren’t supposed to play on the couch. It is strictly for napping and nice boy time. Here, Percy is determined to get Haas in trouble.

Several years ago, I started looking at other teachers in a different way. Before, I watched for teaching techniques, content delivery methods, and behavior management “best practices”. Those things are certainly important, but maybe that wasn’t where I should have focused. I thought that there must be a “right” way to do everything in the classroom and that this would be best for my kids. Then, I started looking at the teachers the kids loved and were willing to work for. Some kids will learn, behave, and succeed no matter what or who is teaching. Some need structure and routine and for the teacher and classroom to be predictable. Some need variety and constant stimulation. They need me to remember that they are still kids, even if they are in grown-up sized bodies. All of them need kindness.

I decided, then, that if someone were to describe me, the words I would want them to use (and didn’t) was that their teacher was kind, calm, and capable. I want my kids to feel peace and safety. I know that life isn’t peaceful, safe, or often kind. But. (Isn’t there always a but?) I can be kind, as much as possible.

I’m not there, yet. It is likely that I will never get there, but I will keep trying. I still get frustrated when kids argue or refuse to use time and resources given to them. I get loud when a 90 pound dog uses me as a trampoline or smacks me upside the head while trying to play. Then, I have to remind myself to be kind.

Today the phrase is written in large, clear lettering on an index card on my desk. (I am struggling to be kind and not insistent on “right”)

So, in the interest of accountability, today, tonight, and tomorrow, I will be kind in the following ways.

I will be kind to my students by remembering that Caesar can be hard and giving them some down time, even if it is just a few minutes.

I will be kind to my boys by taking one for a walk and giving the other two a special treat. They all get extra play time.

I will be kind to my department and bring muffins for breakfast tomorrow.

I will be kind to myself and remember that although I wasn’t always who I wanted to be today, no one is perfect and I can try again tomorrow to be calm, capable, and kind.

Floating on Four Fins

The youngest offspring has a few things to say this evening…I was supposed to include all of the parentheticals and keep it as close to what she wrote as possible.

Hi! I’m the daughter of the owner of this blog. I love her blog [Ed./mom note: I’m just typing what the kid wrote]. Anyways, this is a special page! Today I’m talking about what I think the fan favourite [Kid watches too much Doctor Who, apparently]fish do when we’re at school. My fish, Sky (the pretty boy), most likely sleeps a lot. When he’s awake, I think he patrols his territory. Since he’s managed to cut his fins up a little, I think he might play by himself.

Now Poltergeist (not my fish), I think he tries to break the tank. Poltergeist is ragged. He likes to slam himself into the wall.

Yeah…Anyways, on the wonderful, stress-free snow day Monday, Sky slept. A lot. When he was awake he just stared me down. I told him sleeping near the filter was a bad idea. Sorry, mom. I didn’t know children were that rebellious [mom note: kid is 11, so she has no idea]. Let’s just say he slept by the filter. That covers Sky.

Now, I don’t own Poltergeist, so I’m not sure about him. I think he (Poltergeist) sleeps, too. After probably hurting himself, he is calmed down as far as I’ve seen. Maybe he sleeps, maybe he parties. Poltergeist is, well, interesting. He is, or was, a good boy. I think. He has grown up a bit and he’s been in the house longer than Percy. I think other pages or the description says otherwise, but we got Poltergeist a week before Percy. Poltergeist is purple with red and blue. Sky is light blue. Both are torn up. Sky isn’t as torn up. I’ve accidentally fallen into the dresser (where his tank sits) and literally shaken Sky up. He fish glares at me. Poltergeist though. He’s, according to his owner, “very aggressive.” I think that’s all. Betta fish are the best fish. Goodbye!