Meet Carson.

He’s curious and stubborn.

He wakes far too early for my liking. Five on the clock I’m okay with; four-thirty, no thank you.

He’s demanding when he wants attention—he either emits a high-pitched whine or seeks out any non-toy he can find, usually an area rug, a sock, a shoe, or my daughters’ underwear. (He’s also been known to steal used tampons, but I’ll spare you those details.)

All said, he’s pretty much your typical puppy. That also means
he’s ridiculously adorable and absolutely beloved by the humans in my family.
As for Galen, the once lone canine, there’s begrudging acceptance. I’m pretty
sure she’s thinking, “Crap. He’s staying. I’ll just ignore him and snarl
when he jumps on my head.”

Galen has, however, discovered one upside to having the little guy around: lots of treats. With Carson learning the basics, like sit, stay, and come, the cookies are free-flowing. Galen makes sure that for every treat Carson gets, she gets one, too.

 

Stay tuned for more on the trials of raising a puppy, including why I believe in this equation: infant + toddler = puppy. Until then, here’s Carson’s quickie bio:

Name: Inspired by two Carsons: Carson
Wentz, the Philadelphia Eagles quarterback and Rachel Carson, author of Silent
Spring, the book that would help launch the environmental movement.   

Breed: Norwegian Elkhound, German shepherd

Date of birth: February 19, 2019 (Straddles Aquarius and Pisces, but I’m not sure any studies have been done connecting canine personality traits to the zodiac.)

State of Origin: West Virginia. An all too familiar tale: Carson’s owner surrendered him and his littermates to the county shelter.

Rescue: One Step Closer Animal Rescue (OSCAR) brought Carson and his siblings to New Jersey. We adopted him from them. You can read all about OSCAR in Dogland. Since publication, OSCAR has opened its own shelter in Andover, NJ to house even more dogs and cats than it could as a foster-based rescue.  

Fun fact: Carson’s original name was Nugget.

In book news…

Delia Owens’ debut novel, Where the Crawdads Sing, has spent more than 45 weeks on the New York Times best seller list and is being made into a movie by Reese Witherspoon’s production company. What’s the hype all about? You can read my review at EcoLit Books.

If you live in or around Warren Township, New Jersey, and you haven’t picked up Dogland yet, please come out to the Warren library on Tuesday night, August 6^th at 7:00 p.m. I’d love to see you.

I recently came face to face with some old memories.

First, came the memories of my infant daughters’ unwillingness to nap. I went two for two in this category, as neither daughter deemed napping necessary for her wellbeing, or mine. Placed lovingly in her crib, each baby girl would cry—then scream. Showers were never the peaceful respite I hoped them to be.

I also recalled my younger daughter’s tendency to wake before the sun. By the time most babies were stirring, she—and I—had been up for several hours. (And still, napping was not an option.)

Finally, I remembered the day I caught my older daughter, then a toddler, quietly and determinedly drawing on my bedroom floor with a favorite lipstick. My takeaway: if your toddler leaves your line of sight, find her. Fast.

Why the flood of memories? Carson. He’s led me to conclude that puppies are at once infants and toddlers. They are lucky they are so darn cute.

Perhaps this is why they are so darn cute.

Sleep? Not in his crate. On my lap, sure. Just like my infant daughters. But place him in his crate, and cue the crying. And let me tell you, puppy whining tears at your heart just as mightily as an infant’s cries. And there’s no rationalizing with either of them. “Please, mommy just wants to take a shower,” means absolutely nothing to a baby or a puppy. Nor does, “please sleep past four (in the morning).”

Toys? Carson loves his toys. He will happily chew on a bone or pull the stuffing out of a stuffed toy. But what he loves more, is anything that isn’t a toy: a shoe, a sock, a cardboard box, any piece of clothing on the floor of my daughters’ bedrooms, a plastic water bottle, anything he can snatch out of a bathroom garbage can… If he could get hold of my lipstick, he’d certainly steal that.

Fortunately, puppies, like babies, settle into a daily routine. And puppies do so more quickly than their human counterparts. Carson is nine-months-old now. He sleeps better than he did when he first arrived in our home, but he’s still a thief. In time, he will grow out of that. Galen did. As did Gryffin. For now, I try not to let him out of my sight.

I knew bringing a puppy into the house wouldn’t be easy. What I didn’t anticipate was that doing so would open a flood gate of memories, reminding me that the tough times, like all good times, are worth remembering.