Having a young dog, it turns out, is way different from owning an older one. I guess I had forgotten, it’d been so long. As you may know from reading previous posts, we bought a Boston Terrier puppy a year ago, and have been waiting for him to calm down ever since. He’s now 15 months old, and still needs plenty of play time and attention. Sometimes I feel quite overwhelmed by how much, in fact. My research indicated that BTs are “medium energy” dogs, which fact Dave likes to throw in my face once in awhile. (“Well, good thing we didn’t get a high-energy dog!!”)
Recently I decided to lie down in bed and read a book in the afternoon (as retirees like to do) and Buster jumped up and snuggled up against me, promptly falling asleep. After a few minutes it occurred to me that this, THIS, is why I wanted a dog. It’s the sweet, snuggly feeling when they are glued to your side, snoring gently. That’s the best thing ever. I need an Emotional Support Dog, but Buster is only willing to work part-time. I miss having a lap dog, like Monty. Whenever I pick Buster up and place him on my lap, he sits erect, alertly looking out, waiting for the first opportunity to go on with his life. It’s just not the same.
So, all I really need from Buster is for him to snuggle, but in exchange, he asks way more of me. He expects me to play fetch ad nauseam, train him daily, feed him, walk him and even then he’s not satisfied. Sure, he’ll sleep a few hours a day, but as soon as he wakes up and finds that I’m on my computer or knitting a sweater he trots up and starts batting at my arm or dropping a ball onto the keyboard. And he’s stupidly appealing with those big, brown eyes looking at me. I’m trying to teach him to understand that when I say “That’s enough”, and “I’m NOT playing with you right now”, he has to give up. So far, he gives me a ten-minute reprieve and then he starts over. Baby steps.
Well, you might ask, where’s Dave in all this? Doesn’t Buster have another ‘parent’? Well, Dave tends to find refuge in the basement where he “studies scores” and “practices his trombone”. Whatever!! First he tells me he’s retiring and then he pretends he has to work! I’m not buying it, I think he’s faking the whole thing to avoid having Buster jump on his lap with a ball as he tries to read the news. Buster is so attached to Dave that he’s completely undaunted by however many times Dave tells him to “fuck off!”. He just sits at his feet adoringly, rear end twitching, waiting for him to toss the ball, which he knows will happen eventually. Dave likes to relax in an armchair in the living room with his feet on the couch, so Buster will often jump up and stretch out along his legs and fall asleep. I’m not sure whether Dave realizes the value of the cuddles Buster offers him, free of charge. I’m not jealous. Not much, anyway.
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