I knew that adopting a dog was going to be hard, but oh my word, I never realised how difficult it would be. I'd never say that getting Kismet was like having a baby, but last night was definitely like having a newborn in the house. Every time he snuffled in his crate I would bolt upright from sleep to make sure he was okay, which means that today I am exhausted. Ex-hau-sted. I woke up at six-thirty to walk him before church, and then again afterward, and then I went out for lunch with Nicole and Erin, and then we picked him up and they walked him around the historical area while mommy played militia. And now he's back in his crate. I feel really, REALLY guilty about crating him so much--he's used to having a bigger house, with a yard and other doggy playmates--but I'm so tired right now that I can't discipline him properly when he jumps up or licks my face.
Part of the problem is, I think, that we packed a lot into one weekend. Usually I'm sitting around watching "Animal Planet" but for some reason I felt the need to entertain him by taking him to Lowe's (so we could buy some netting for the porch so now he can't get through the railings) and scare him half to death by exposing him to cannons, fife & drummers and cats--all in one day. Tomorrow he's in for a shock, while I'm gone to work. I'm hoping that he'll adjust to my schedule instead of becoming a neurotic puppy.
He's a sweet boy. And when he's being sweet, he's really sweet. But when he's being a boy and making friends with your leg (oh yes--now THERE'S a problem I've never dealt with before) he drives mommy crazy.