Ready or not...

Hell has frozen over, and Kyle and I are now the proud owners of a dog. Not just any dog, an indoor dog that is part Great Dane. How did this happen? I'm still not quite sure, even though it was kind of my idea. I blame temporary insanity.

Since we got married, Kyle has always wanted a dog. I'm not really a dog person, especially not a big-dog-in-the-house kind of person, so we had essentially agreed to disagree on that subject. However, we've been in kind of a rut lately. We do pretty much whatever we want to do 24-7, which is great, but tends to make us kind of lazy. I was talking about this with a friend the week of Valentine's Day, and she suggested getting a dog. I had no intention of doing it, but then I started looking at pictures of dogs who needed adopted online, and pretty soon I came across Oliver. According to his description he was a quite, loving Great Dane mix who was two years old. I thought that might be the prefect compromise. Large but not too large, house trained and calm. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I could handle that idea. So on Valentine's Day, I sent the link to Kyle and told him we could go visit him on Sunday if he wanted to. He wasn't immediately sold because he wanted a full blood Great Dane, but come Sunday morning, we were headed to the adoption event in Moore.

We got there early, just as they were bringing the dogs in. Kyle said, "Look, that's got to be him!" I looked up to find a girl about my size struggling to keep up with Oliver and his friend, who were pulling her by their leashes. Not a great sign, yet never the less, we were parked and on our way in. Oliver and his shelter friends were in cages at the front of the store, barking away. Kyle asked if he was Oliver and the lady said, "Yes. Are you the couple from Stillwater who called about him?" We were, so she let Oliver out and he immediately jumped up to greet Kyle, leaving his hands all bloody. Turns out Oliver had "happy tail" from being in the cages at the shelter, which is really anything but happy. The tip of his tail was bleeding and the blood was all over him. Kyle loved on him a little and then asked where the rest rooms were so he could clean up. On our way to the back of the store, I told Kyle I wasn't so sure about this. Oliver seemed really rowdy and his part "terrier" that was listed online was actually part pit bull, which doesn't have the best reputation. Kyle said we didn't have to get him, but he thought he had a lot of potential and he would settle down after we worked with him. In the end, I told him to make the decision since it would be mainly his dog, so we signed the papers, bought some dog food and were headed home.

I was actually the one who filled out the paperwork, and I am amazed they let us adopt him. I'm sure my face was pale as a ghost because I was trying very hard not to hyperventilate. But what was done was done so when we got to Stillwater, I went grocery shopping and tried not to think about it. Unfortunately when I got back, I had a mini breakdown. Oliver's "happy tail" had gotten blood all over my white cabinets and some of our walls. As the tears were welling up in my eyes, Kyle was scrubbing away, trying to undo the damage. I eventually recovered, and we had fun with Oliver that night. He had calmed down so much and slept perfectly on his dog bed all night. The next day, it was time for work. We had planned to keep him in a crate until he is used to the house, but Kyle didn't want him to reinjure his tail, so we closed all the doors and hoped for the best. We checked in on him every couple of hours, and he was a perfect angel, no accidents or bad behavior. (Other than getting up on our couch, which is an old hand-me-down anyway.) So at this point, I thought we'd won the dog lottery. Little did I know that 24 hours later, he would be chewing up the contents of my purse. After that, he chewed one of his toys to shreds leaving bits and pieces all over the house. Then he proceeded to nibble on the leg of our dining room chair and a sippy cup that was drying on top of our kitchen counter before completely destroying his bed! (I can't tell you how disturbing it is for me to think about his dirty paws on my kitchen counter!)

By this time, it was Thursday and Kyle took him to his scheduled vet appointment. While Kyle is definitely more excited to have Oliver, I am far more patient with him. Kyle was almost at his wits end until the vet told him that Oliver was just a year old and still a puppy. This was music to his ears because it explained his behavior and meant that with the proper training he should grow out of it. Unfortunately, the vet also said that he isn't full grown like we were told. He estimates that he'll grow another 6 inches in height and gain 30-40 more pounds. I am still in shock. That's not exactly what I signed up for, but I guess Oliver is family now, so I'll have to get used to the idea.

Overall dog ownership has been overwhelming so far. I know it will get better, I'm just a little out of my element, but Kyle couldn't be happier. And while my house will never again meet the standard of what I once considered "clean," maybe I could stand to lighten up a little, be less of a perfectionist and embrace whatever life holds. Those are just a few of the lessons Oliver has taught me this week. I'm sure there are many more to come!

 Watching the Olympics with Dad. 

 They love to cuddle.

 Oliver's first walk. He isn't that great at heeling, but he did alright and we made it home in one piece. 

 He can't fetch yet, but he loves to get the ball and then run laps around the yard. 

He loves to stretch out and lay around the house.