I am getting too old!

Remember the days when you were young ( Or perhaps your still there)  when the adventures of a baby were fun? You didn't mind the spit up or the poop or the wakings in the early dawn.  You loved them and they were precious and you did just did it.

Well.  I am over it. I want to play and cuddle and then send them home with momma when I am done!

Course I am talking more so about the new puppy we just got but the theory still works.

I had a puppy when we first got married.  And I remember puppy teeth and chewing on everything and pooping and waking in the middle of the night crying and.........I remember it and want to forget it.  Which might be why I tended to go older when I got other dogs.  I like the one year stage. Still young enough to train and play with but old enough to know better.  A four month old puppy running around my house is not making me overly happy right now.

Why did I get one you ask?  Well because if you read my post below you will see I am a marshmallow.  No Santa doesn't bring puppies but Ryan, who works at the SPCA, does.  I caved.  I gave in.  I am clearly soft enough to roast over a fire and make into a smores.  And I am not happy.

We got a crate.  Ryan was told I am not caring for it.  I do not get up at 2am to take her out.  I do not clean up after her. I do not feed her or walk her and I am not so sure I want to play either.  That is his job and his sisters. And they have been fairly good with it.  Except for the potty training..............

I do not want to get up in the middle of a movie to find poop in my family room or to take her out and find that she decided to deliver a present even after spending 20 minutes outside in 20 degree weather.  And I am getting angry.  I simply do not have the patience for it.  And I cannot cuddle and send it home cause it lives here!

I am either going to slap a diaper on her butt or slap Ryan with it.  Either works. 

And I think Cherokee feels the same way.  My loving playful old puppy has spend the last three days grumbling and growling.  She is not overly impressed with this little bundle of fur.  And, Cherokee, I completely understand. I am sure she is over it too.

Maybe Cherokee and I will hide in the bedroom and grumble about the good old peaceful, poopless days together.