I've done three dogs, one a puppy and the other a senior with dementia. I also very much do not recommend it.
I mean, we'd do it again, cus the puppy is wonderful and the timing worked out in other ways. But three is too many. Two is just right, easier than one (mostly).
Ah good old memories of stepping in cold puppy poodles of poop in the middle of the night, the poop-de-poop-scoop detail, and most infamously stealing my brand new Barbie off the coffee table and chewing her arm off on Christmas Day!
Five months and still giving you a run for your money—sounds familiar. Dogs really are chaos wrapped in fur… but yeah, pretty awesome chaos. Hats off to you and your rescue pup for sticking it out.
Hey Doggo on the Rocks. I was sent to the animal shelter to bring back a dog, swearing I was bringing ONE dachsund home. The shelter lady brought three dogs out so I could pick. Of course two picked me. As I hesitated she told me the red one and the black and tan were brothers and had slept together since birth. (Shameless huckstress I suspect.) That was 21 years ago. Copper passed in 2017 and Skippy in 2019. This chewed buffet is my memory lens for their spirits. Savor the chews and floor scratches. Dogs are special. And dachsunds need to be in pairs.
Andy, I’m floored. That’s the most heartwarming chewed-up-dachshund-buffet story I’ve ever read. You’ve just redefined “bringing home a dog” in the best way possible. And yes—clearly dachshunds come in sets for a reason.
That arc feels suspiciously like mine. You say “no,” they say “please,” and suddenly you’re the one giving them belly rubs and calling them your soulmate. Classic dog magic. Love that for you.
I laughed so hard. We got our puppy in October and the bit about standing outside at 2 AM in the snow and the screaming crate training happened to me....
The 2 AM screaming in the snow is when you know the dog owns you. Crate training is not for the weak—and apparently neither is parenting, marriage, or winter. I salute you, fellow survivor.
That might just be the perfect tagline for the chaos we call home. Nothing beats the tag team of muddy paws and sticky toddler hugs. Unfiltered love, fur and all.
Rocky Dad, after reading this post this morning, my admiration and respect of your paternal expertise has increased. A puppy, a pregnant wife and frosty weather. Wow. Not to seem competitive at all bc I don’t have that bone in my body, but we got a Westie puppy in the dead of winter when we bought an inn in Vermont. The nascent business was not unlike a first time pregnant wife as we didn’t have a clue what awaited us. Puppy arrived after first big snowfall. Puppy took his sweet time distinguishing between carper and snow. Puppy arrived with worms. Puppy refused crate training. Puppy was smart. Our bed was 29 degrees warmer. Puppy took 3 weeks to learn that grass or anything green was snow substitute. Puppy is now 16 years old and the love of our life.
This comment deserves its own Substack. The detail, the drama, the Westie wisdom—it’s everything. I feel like I just binge-watched a cozy Vermont miniseries. Also, 29 degrees warmer? That puppy knew exactly what it was doing. And your dinner menu? Iconic.
We just got our 3rd dog. A 3rd rescue.
(Visualize a guy [me] wildly punching the air in front of him, but not landing a satisfying punch anywhere.)
Don’t.
Don’t do three dogs.
I've done three dogs, one a puppy and the other a senior with dementia. I also very much do not recommend it.
I mean, we'd do it again, cus the puppy is wonderful and the timing worked out in other ways. But three is too many. Two is just right, easier than one (mostly).
Ah good old memories of stepping in cold puppy poodles of poop in the middle of the night, the poop-de-poop-scoop detail, and most infamously stealing my brand new Barbie off the coffee table and chewing her arm off on Christmas Day!
Fun. Dogs are hard work! I’ve a rescue dog who took 5 months to settle and even now, he’s challenging. But dogs are awesome!
Five months and still giving you a run for your money—sounds familiar. Dogs really are chaos wrapped in fur… but yeah, pretty awesome chaos. Hats off to you and your rescue pup for sticking it out.
Hey Doggo on the Rocks. I was sent to the animal shelter to bring back a dog, swearing I was bringing ONE dachsund home. The shelter lady brought three dogs out so I could pick. Of course two picked me. As I hesitated she told me the red one and the black and tan were brothers and had slept together since birth. (Shameless huckstress I suspect.) That was 21 years ago. Copper passed in 2017 and Skippy in 2019. This chewed buffet is my memory lens for their spirits. Savor the chews and floor scratches. Dogs are special. And dachsunds need to be in pairs.
Andy, I’m floored. That’s the most heartwarming chewed-up-dachshund-buffet story I’ve ever read. You’ve just redefined “bringing home a dog” in the best way possible. And yes—clearly dachshunds come in sets for a reason.
This sounds like me. I never wanted a dog but my husband and son did so we got one. And now I think I love him the most
That arc feels suspiciously like mine. You say “no,” they say “please,” and suddenly you’re the one giving them belly rubs and calling them your soulmate. Classic dog magic. Love that for you.
I laughed so hard. We got our puppy in October and the bit about standing outside at 2 AM in the snow and the screaming crate training happened to me....
The 2 AM screaming in the snow is when you know the dog owns you. Crate training is not for the weak—and apparently neither is parenting, marriage, or winter. I salute you, fellow survivor.
Best of all worlds! Dogs and kids! Pure unfiltered unconditional love.
That might just be the perfect tagline for the chaos we call home. Nothing beats the tag team of muddy paws and sticky toddler hugs. Unfiltered love, fur and all.
Miss those days! It was the 90’s for me♥️
Rocky Dad, after reading this post this morning, my admiration and respect of your paternal expertise has increased. A puppy, a pregnant wife and frosty weather. Wow. Not to seem competitive at all bc I don’t have that bone in my body, but we got a Westie puppy in the dead of winter when we bought an inn in Vermont. The nascent business was not unlike a first time pregnant wife as we didn’t have a clue what awaited us. Puppy arrived after first big snowfall. Puppy took his sweet time distinguishing between carper and snow. Puppy arrived with worms. Puppy refused crate training. Puppy was smart. Our bed was 29 degrees warmer. Puppy took 3 weeks to learn that grass or anything green was snow substitute. Puppy is now 16 years old and the love of our life.
Dinner menu:
Boxed Mac and cheese with sliced hot dogs
This comment deserves its own Substack. The detail, the drama, the Westie wisdom—it’s everything. I feel like I just binge-watched a cozy Vermont miniseries. Also, 29 degrees warmer? That puppy knew exactly what it was doing. And your dinner menu? Iconic.
You are waay too young, but if you ever get a chance to watch The Bob Newhart Show, my husband was Bob and I was the housekeeper, the dizzy blonde.
where's the picture though?
Vacuuming daily is admirable. I usually remove my glasses so my dog’s white fur blends with the floor’s wood grain.
I’d hate to tell you how many times I heard that one, and then wound up with a dog, (or a cat).