I have a bold statement to make right here, right now.  This column is not about COVID or anything related to it.  It’s not about the election results. It’s not about Christmas.  It’s not about 2020 as a year that needs to move along. No, I think we’re all exhausted by these subjects.  Instead, I’m going to share a slice of life from Casa Albrecht.  Buckle up.  Today’s subject is puppies.

When my beloved dog, Zoe, died of lymphoma in early June at the age of 13, I was devastated.  I’d had her since she was two and she was unequivocally my dog.  She wouldn’t even get off the bed when Mike came home for lunch.  Why bother? He was clearly not her person.

We still had Bob, the Australian Shepherd who acts like a Labrador and loves everyone, but my dog was gone.  I started looking for another herding rescue dog in July but despite my relentless search through what seemed every shelter and rescue website from Utah to Indiana, no luck. I didn’t want a puppy but even that option started to appeal.  We certainly didn’t need a papered cow dog – we needed an unregistered couch dog.  Just when I was about to give it up (at least for now), Mike found an entire litter of Aussie puppies in Otter, Montana.  We reserved a male blue merle-colored one and counted down the days until they were weaned.

A week before we were to pick up the puppy was the annual CVC board retreat.  As an ice breaker, I asked everyone what was one thing they would never do again?  I chose bungee jumping.  One board member said they’d never get a puppy again.  This started a veritable run on puppy loathing with several more vehemently agreeing.  It was both startling and a bit scary.  What had I gotten myself into? It reminded me of when I was days away from having Nick.  Will was three years old, potty trained, slept through the night, got dressed without help, etc.  And there I was, starting all over from scratch with a new baby. What was I thinking?

I am going to stop right here and give you some important background information about my prior puppy raising and training (?) experience. When Mike and I met, he had Buck who was a two-year-old Australian Shepherd and incredibly well-behaved.

Then we got Lena, an Aussie/Border Collie puppy, who was my dog.  Mine.  She went to work with me. We were inseparable.  She would sit outside stores with no leash and wait for me to come out.  Lena was a paragon of well-behaved dogginess.

When she died, we got Zoe.  She was a rescue Aussie and though I kept her on a long leash to make sure she would not run away, from Day One, she came to me when I called.  Every time.

Five years ago, we found Bob, the Aussie puppy on Craigslist.  He is also an excellent dog and unless there is a bunny or pheasant in the vicinity, will always obey a command.

I tell you all this so you can understand why my expectations were so high.  And so profoundly misplaced.

Lloyd was the most adorable and smartest of the entire litter of nine. As his mother, this was obvious to me.  We tried crate training for the first time and although it was a rough go at first, he is now a champ about spending the night there and when we’re away from the house.  Potty training seems to be successful and I might even tempt fate by renting the carpet shampooer after Christmas. He sleeps through the night.  He mostly doesn’t jump on people.  He’s bonded to me (almost to a fault). So why is this column titled A Cautionary Tail?  Other than the brilliant punny-ness of it?

Because pretty much every time I call him to me, he thinks it’s a great game and stays just out of reach like a naughty toddler. He will not be lured into the house or the car until he is ready.  I am losing what’s left of my mind.

No one told me that four to six months old are some of the most challenging for a puppy parent.  I am now feverishly reading books and articles on the best ways to train recall.  Turns out I will have to do what everyone else does – spend a lot of time with him on a leash, practicing, bribing, enticing, rewarding, practicing more.  How did I hit the jackpot four times in a row before Lloyd?

Like small children, there’s a reason why puppies are incredibly cute at this age.  It’s the only thing that keeps them from being strangled by their crazed, impatient parents.  As the mother of teenagers, the emotions both invoke are similar. My human boys are also smart, potty trained, and mostly come when called.  They didn’t get there because Mike and I gave up and gave in to our frustration. What I need is patience, tenacity, and a strong leash.  For all of them.