Frustrations of dealing with youth

It’s easy to make friends and be active during the summer, even for an introvert such as myself. There is great plenty to talk about and do because I can be OUTSIDE and there are DOGS. Trails to walk, nature sounds to hear, things to smell, …even Otto and Shelby (the Senior dogs) will happily stroll the trail behind our house (albeit slowly). And when we happen to cross paths with a fellow trail walker with a dog, it’s obvious the Seniors know how to handle themselves: ‘Sup? That a new bandana there? Looks pretty sharp. Yeah, things all good here. Just keeping the old lady company. Hey, see ya later.  On the other hand, Wallace the youngster loses his mind: Hey! Hey! You’re a DOG! You are the GREATEST THING EVER!! Hey! You’re a DOG! Can we be friends? Can I smell your butt? Can I? Hey!!

We’ve done the puppy socialization and basic training classes over at Havana Dog Training where Wallace got to hang out with a younger set of hounds and he loved it. He even did pretty well. We have a certificate! (I wonder if there are puppies who don’t get one?) We’ve brought him over to our doggie extended stay place where he could hang out with and learn dog things from an entire pack and an expert leader (Candace) and he loved that, too. Candace even reported that he never had house training accidents at her place (well, yeah, because he’s OUTSIDE). But alas, it was summer and I had the time to go to those places that are out of town. I am all for supporting local business but we have to go out of town because, just like in the Christmas story, there is no room at the inn, er, canine joint here. Perhaps we could use another one. (Are any entrepreneurs reading?)  It’s my own fault–I should have reserved a spot for him three years in advance, just like I did with my daughter’s preschool right after she was born. I’m not even kidding. I told my husband to call and get her on the list for her entrance year. He scoffed. I insisted (the voice exiting my mouth comparable to the character from The Exorcist but you know, all those hormones). He called the school and then apologized to me after finding out that our brand-new baby was already number seven on the list. Anyway, I guess I should have done that for Wallace.

Now, in the dead of winter, the Seniors are getting pretty frustrated with puppy shenanigans. They’ve been there and done that over a decade ago and they are DONE with the little bother. One or the other of the Seniors looks at me pointedly (usually when Wallace is chewing on an appendage not belonging to himself), asking me to intervene: YOU brought him here. For the love of God, woman, DO SOMETHING!!  Do it NOW!!  I try to let him run around in the backyard and burn off some puppy energy when the weather is good, but since he’s:  A) a miniature dachshund, and B) off-white, we run into a couple of problems. 

So Wallace needs to get out more. A puppy's social skills are just like those of a toddler: practice, practice, practice. Then (if you’re lucky) civilization is somewhat safe from both of them. Wallace is terrific with humans, but his best animal friend at our house is neither of the other senior dogs (go figure) but…ghost Wallace. Ghost Wallace appears at night in the glass at the bottom of the patio doors, or occasionally in the windows (if the real Wallace is standing on the back of the sofa, which he is NOT supposed to do), but most frequently on the oven door. And every time ghost Wallace comes to visit, he is welcomed with a cacophony of dachshund noises that persists until we pull the blinds, get him off the sofa, or open the oven door (guess I’m not cooking tonight): Hey! Hey! You’re a DOG! You are the GREATEST THING EVER!! Hey!  I wonder if he’ll come to any revelations when he tries to smell the new dog’s butt?