First, learn the phrase, then learn to accept the phrase, and then say the phrase. Say the phrase again, say it a million times, then say it a million more, and the phrase you will have said two million times is “bad dog, no!" If you have truly embraced the phrase, the 12-week old puppy fixated on your shoe laces will cease her egregious act to give you a look that claims you have just crushed her teeny tiny soul, this is a day the life of anyone stouthearted enough to adopt a puppy. A process both heartwarming and mind numbing, my girlfriend decided to take the plunge and adopt Nakaia, a beautiful German Shepherd puppy complete with enough energy to power the nation state of South Korea.
The process begins with searching, eventually, a winner is found. Adorable, fluffy, good breeders, and overall positive vibes; so the purchase is made and the time passes until the little angel arrives. The second phase of the process is adoration, as all the adorable puppy behavior creates a temporary euphoria before you realize the gravity of the situation you are now in. Soon you will be in a frenzy of obedience training, potty training, and before you know it, the word “teething” will send a shiver down your spine faster than a puppy’s jaws can fasten themselves around the leash she knows she isn’t supposed to chew on.
The third phase is when you realize you have not adopted a dog, but instead are stuck with a demonic creature that grows faster than a B-grade sci-fi creature, and plants land mines at roughly the same rate as ten guerilla militants. With no setting between “off” and “sonic boom,” every waking moment is consumed by newly found horrors that come with a puppy belly and big floppy ears. After a while you start to love it anyway and become convinced that progress is being made, however don’t kid yourself yet; you are now suffering from a phenomenon known as Stockholm Syndrome.
After what seems like years of hair-tearing frustration, you enter phase four of puppy parenthood, when the self aware power saw that roams your house begins to get a sense of how to behave; she learns commands, restrictions, and that when she behaves she doesn’t invoke the fiery wrath of God. There will still be regressions, of course, like when she discovers she likes the funny noise you make when she trots across the floor holding your cell phone. (Not kidding.)
The fifth phase of raising your little monster is the epiphany that strikes whilst sitting on the floor tangled in a dog leash; it dawns on you that even though the bundle of energy has once again tested your respect for the Geneva convention, you can’t help but love her anyway. You find a sense of enjoyment in chasing her through the living room at mach-3 as she makes off with a sock, and you certainly can’t help but love when she flops down in your lap with an overly dramatic sigh and a lazy tail wag. The final phase of puppyhood has arrived, as you watch your puppy grow from spawn of Satan into a well-mannered best friend that you can love and adore for many happy years, even if she does still love to periodically step on your fasdkjlvhcu—keyboard.
