Just look at those puppy dog eyes! Shadow may act like he's tired of being photographed, but his face says it all. Secretly he loves it. Now if only I could get my sunglasses to stay on his head...
Shadow creates an optical illusion with his left ear. Who knew we had such a clever canine?
"Sssshhh. Quiet. I'm hunting toys."
"No way! That's mine!"
As you read, I am preparing the house for my in-laws and Shadow is preparing to meet his other set of grandparents, his aunt and TWO of his canine cousins. Well, I guess one's a canine uncle, but either way it's going to be a blast. I can't wait to see Artie and Moose put our little Shadow in his place and show him how well-behaved dogs act!
Photo rights to these and all others appearing on this blog (excluding Amazon.com links) are the property of the creator of "Me and My Shadow."
You may recall Leon, the very brave stuffed lion whom Shadow rendered mute a few weeks ago...
Well, Shadow just decided he wasn't a fan of the tail. I personally think it was a power play -- Shadow's way of claiming that he is the real king of the jungle.
But either way, Leon doesn't have to look far to realize he got away fairly unscathed (for now). Moo Cow got her rear end stitched up earlier this week, and Sam the red chicken is just a fraction (literally) of his former self.
Were it not for the daily barrage of letters, e-mails, phone calls, postcards and carrier pigeons seeking donations for my beloved alma mater, I would say my five-year college reunion is still at least two years away.
Alas, it was two weeks ago. And I have no choice but to face the fact that – while I still feel like an 18-year-old ingénue with an industrious life plan that no one dare put asunder – I am 27, married, living in the suburbs and mother to a furry little rascal who will one day have to share my attention with several human little rascals.
It’s amazing how quickly we pass those life-changing markers, and how unremarkable they feel at the time.
Five years after leaving the halls of Busch Light and higher education, I can’t say exactly when the automatic response to “I have news” shifted from “you got promoted” or “you’re buying that car you keep talking about.” Rather, if the announcer is unmarried, the answer is that they got engaged. If they’re already hitched, then they’re pregnant. End of story.
In half the time it took the New York Yankees to regain their reputation, for example, six of my 10 closest friends tied the knot or bought the ring and two actually created human babies. The latter is still difficult to conceive (no pun intended), even though my own matronly intentions were – until recently – the go-to conversation topic of family and friends.
Perhaps that’s why when the timing seemed right for me and Chris to expand our family – part of that ambitious life plan that includes publishing a book, buying my dream home, visiting every place in the “Before You Die” series, and eventually raising human offspring – I phrased the news this way in a group e-mail:
“I wanted to make this announcement earlier, but Chris and I had to wait until we were sure. We've been talking for a little while about adding to our family, and it's finally time to spread the news...”
Then I asked them to scroll down…
“We’re getting a puppy!”
It might have been cruel, but it had some degree of payback and was my way of tackling the expectation that a certain age means marriage for a woman marriage requires immediate kids. Hold your horses, everyone: My oven’s not broken yet, and I’ve already got the cook.
Shadow’s four months old now (about three in human years), and because I’m really only about 12 inside we’ve been getting along great.
Like me, he likes to play and then rest for disproportionate amounts of time; he loves nature and food (although I’d choose chicken over moss any day); he enjoys a little Tom Petty; he gets hyperactive without warning and for no apparent reason; he finds it fun to torture my husband, and he has a rare recessive hair color that attracts many a comment from strangers.
And that brings me to the topic that has thankfully usurped my womb as prime conversation at family gatherings: No, he’s not a Weimaraner or a pit bull. He’s a silver Labrador retriever – a very rare shade of the most common breed. Once that mystery wears off, I’ll either have to buy some maternity duds or give Shadow a black-coated golden retriever step brother…
For now, however, I’m focused on exploring this new role of puppy mom. It’s been a blast so far, and I’m content knowing that whether the sun is shining or the sky is filled with stormy grey… I’ll never be without my Shadow ;)
Remember this little guy? The above photo was taken just a couple hours after Chris and I brought our adorable, sweet, shy, laptop-sized puppy home. He took an immediate liking to the space under the living room coffee table, and settled down for a long April's nap in his unfamiliar home.
He was only eight weeks old at the time, and weighed 13 pounds. Double that age, ramp up that weight by about 150 percent, exponentially increase his confidence to explore the house, and we come to today.
He's still adorable and sweet, but he's added a dash of rebellion, a whole quart of independence and maturity (now he only cries when he wants attention, the way toddlers throw tantrums in the grocery store, not as an innate automatic response to being alone), and a sprinkling of adventure.
"Those are nothing," he told me yesterday while pummeling down the staircase that used to stop him cold.
And yet, after all that growing up, he still finds comfort under tables and chairs (those he can still fit under).
As I first-time dog owner, I was quite surprised at how much Labrador retrievers grow from eight to 16 weeks, and how many of their adult facial features come in. Suddenly, he's a puppy in a little dog's body.
To provide some context, here is a new photo of Shadow under the same table this week. (Yes, the rug is now gone. And yes, that's because of him...)
On one hand, it's hard to believe Shadow -- or "Mr. Shadow" as some of his fans like to call him ;) -- is 15 weeks old today.
But then again, the extent to which he's changed -- in his understanding of us, his level of obedience, and even his sheer size -- makes it hard to believe we've only had him for seven weeks!
Just days ago, for example, I had to carry him down the stairs to get to the front door. They were too steep. If I tried to coax him down on his own, poor Mr. Shadow would just sit at the top, whine, paw at the edge, and look absolutely beside himself. It's the way I'd look if I ever attempted skydiving.
But today, with the help of treats and a blocking of his escape route, he's gone down those steps three times already! So what if he does it like a person with a limp and a fear of heights? It's a big achievement. (Come on, do you really think I'd be so cheesy as to put "It's a big step" there?)
Socially, while he hasn't mastered staying on four feet to greet people, he's already found himself a neighborhood girlfriend and (in my blatantly biased opinion) is one of the best puppies in his kindergarten class. (Watch the video to see how that all began.)
And finally, an update on two of the biggest problems we had in the beginning:
Sleeping: While I don't relish getting up at 6:30 every morning (goodbye Saturday sleep-ins), I've come to really appreciate the extra 3-4 hours of daylight. Plus, the middle-of-the-night barkfests have completely disappeared. The guidebooks nailed it when they advised having patience and letting him cry until he realizes it won't get him his way.
Biting: It's as good as a memory. He may have the occasional relapse, but it's fleeting and soft. The lesson to take away here is to never ignore biting, no matter how harmless or even cute it seems. Whether it's a yelp, a forfeit of attention, or a spray of water, do something when he nips and have patience.
Just like his weight, it's hard to notice progress when you're watching it every day, but some day you'll look back and go "Hey! Remember how he used to bite all the time?..." (or weigh 12 pounds?)
Yesterday, while going through a pile of stuff my mother hoped to finally clear from the house, I came across a children's picture book called "I'll Always Love You."
It was written by Hans Wilhelm, an author and illustrator of more than 200 books, in 1988, and tells the story of a little boy and his dog, Elfie. The two progress through life together, first as playmates and eventually as a young man and his beloved old dachshund. Every night before bed, the boy makes sure to tell his buddy, "I'll always love you." This small action helps him cope when one morning his friend, who progressed through a shorter life at 10 times the speed, doesn't wake up.
I don't recall ever seeing this book as a kid, perhaps because I never had my own Elfie, but it was very well done and sweet (though extremely sad).
It's amazing how fast and how strong the bond between a dog and his or her owner can be. I know there are some who mock my endearment to my first puppy, who sneer at my commitment to training him correctly and to posting experiences for those who share an interest.
But this blog isn't for them.
No number of transparent smiles could make me beam less when I come through the front door to find a one-canine homecoming party waiting for me -- tail wagging, head swinging, paws high-fiving the air at the top of the stairs. No amount of rolling eyes could keep me from glowing when he nuzzles up to me or slides his drowsy face onto my fingertips or under my arm because that's where he feels safe.
Some people make light of the bond that can be forged between humans and their pets. And while not everyone needs a dog to love, to practice patience and playfulness every day, to stop and smell the roses and get caught up in life's simple pleasures... those who belittle the very idea are probably the most in need.
Shadow has already become a great playmate and a loving friend. I know we'll help shape each other over the next 10 to 20 years.
Not a night goes by when I don't tell him how much I love him. And I always will.
