Matt Hazard

It’s late, and my eyes are getting heavy. The lights are out, and I’ve put down the book I’ve been reading for the night. Alright, fine, the remote control.

Drifting off to sleep, I feel the tension begin to loosen from my muscles as the weight of the world slips away and my body sinks into the mattress. The gentle whir of the ceiling fan fades, and thoughts become images as dreams begin to form.

And then a tongue slaps me on the face, with the force of what feels like a tiny wet reciprocating saw moving at one hundred miles an hour.

Jolting awake, I immediately feel a warmth soak through the blanket onto my chest as the puppy jumps happily to the floor.

Enter the puppy, a sweet fifteen-week-old German shepherd crossed with piss and vinegar, making an attempt to wake me up because she has – or rather had – to pee.

I can’t help but feel mostly responsible for this. It’s true, I did let her stay in the bedroom for the night, but that’s only because she’s found a way to break out of her four-foot-tall pen. How, you may ask? Your guess is as good as mine; shy of getting bitten by a radioactive spider, I’m fresh out of ideas. I could go the extra mile and lock her up in the fully enclosed kennel, but I fear her screaming would alert the authorities.

And the piss. Oh, the piss! This dog is nothing short of a walking water pistol. A backwards filter that, within minutes, is able to convert clean drinking water into urine. We’ve upgraded our Costco membership from ‘gold’ to ‘executive’ just to keep up with the bulk paper towel savings.

Nothing compares to coming home after a day at work. When we’re all home, she’s hard enough to keep up with to be let outside, but when left home in the kennel for a few hours while my wife’s and my work schedules overlap? She’s a piss-grenade.

It’s a race to park the truck, rush into the house to quickly let the other two dogs out, strategically leave a wide open pathway from her kennel to the backdoor so she can race straight outside and hopefully not pee on the way out. That’s the idea, at least. In reality, she starts screaming the second I enter the house, and I’m forced to tear through the house like a bull in a china shop while I prepare the exfiltration path. All this, while she’s screaming bloody murder to be let out. My wife really does enjoy those Ring cam videos.

Today, however, was a good day. After work, I was able to get her from her kennel to the backyard without a drop on the carpet. I’d found a way to distract her with handfuls of kibble to calm her down slightly, just enough to make it outside until the bomb of a bladder she has can go off.

Success!

Or so I thought. Somehow in the fray I had accidently locked one of the other dogs inside the pantry while grabbing the kibble to keep the puppy at bay. That dog apparently had to poop.

Yet, all janitorial services aside, I do love the little furry terrorists. At the end of the day, I may be a mess of a dog dad, but at least I can get them to take cute family photos. And I’ll take any small win that I can.