Puppy Promises

Okay, peeps.

Remember that doozy of a post I promised soon? Welp. Here it is. Along with a major (like, life-alteringly MAJOR) announcement. Drum roll, puh-lease…

We. Are. Getting. A. PUPPY.

(Pause for a moment of shock and awe.)

Okay. So. If you know me well, you’re probably aware that I’ve been pet-averse most of my life. 

I didn’t grow up with a pet.

I’ve never had the desire for a pet.

I’m not that person who goes nuts over other people’s animals and feels that instinctual pull toward them.

That’s just never been me.

THAT SAID. My children have always wanted a pet (not uncommon for kiddos). And my Chicklet, specifically, might have come out of the womb longing for a pet, deep in her soul.

I give you, several years’ worth of Christmas card updates to serve as evidence:

2017: “Chicklet loves animals (stuffed or real.)” 

2018: Chicklet “draws animals we don’t own into her family pics and asks daily for any of the following: dog, cat, turtle, fish, rabbit, lizard or snake.”




2019: Chicklet “continued to campaign for a family pet…”




2021: Chicklet “loves animals”




2022: Chicklet “still (still!) campaigns for a family pet—daily.”




The proof is in the pudding. 

My girl has always longed for a pet—a dog, in particular. 

But, honestly, I’d long ago sort of accepted this fact as an intrinsic part of her personality: that she wanted a dog, desperately, and our shtick was going to be my ongoing denial of one, ha.

Welp. Best laid plans, amiright?

Everything began to change about a year ago.

It was around Thanksgiving when we came across a stray dog in the neighborhood. Unclear if it was truly a stray or just escaped for a spell, as we didn’t have direct contact, but Chicklet was beside herself over this dog. She’d gotten it into her head that the dog might need a home, and, welp, things just spiraled from here. For the first time, it was evident just how deep her pet feelings ran. I felt the first cracks in my resolve around that time, seeing firsthand how it affected her.

Fast forward a few weeks (to December of last year), and our beloved elf, Leaf, decided to bring a pet dog (who we named Holly) along for holiday elf shenanigans, and it was meant to be an adorable, silly thing for Chicklet, but…it was only half fun and half depressing (to her, at least) that it was yet another inanimate “pet.”

Ugh.

Welp. Over the official Christmas holiday, the conversation finally came to a head. Chicklet sparked yet another pleading conversation about someday having a dog, and she was ready with all the arguments a thoughtful kiddo like herself could make.

She was eager and willing on every stinking front.

Walks? You betcha.

Shoveling poo? No problem.

Donating toys to make room for dog paraphernalia? She literally went to her room and gathered a giant armful of stuffed animals and said: here you go. Donate ‘em.

Truly. There was nothing this girl was unwilling to do on behalf of a dog. And it’s important to note: while Chicklet was leading the argument charge, her siblings were behind her every step of the way. They gleefully ganged up on us parents. Repeatedly.

In the end, the only leg we had to stand on was the expense. The one, amorphous (for a kid) rock-solid argument that kiddos can’t bypass.

And even then…Chicklet tried.

It was equal parts stinking adorable and heartbreaking when she asked for an empty present box and hauled it upstairs. A few hours later, she reappeared with a “dog bed” she’d made to save money on behalf of the endeavor.

I mean…ugh. Just stick an arrow through my heart, why don’tcha???

I literally just couldn’t full-on reject the idea any longer. I could see and feel how deeply this beloved child o’ mine yearned for a pet, so…I gave her a glimmer of hope and made her a deal.

I told her I would take one year—a full year; until December 31, 2023—-to well and truly consider the idea of a dog. Legitimately.

I didn’t make the promise of a future dog, but I did commit to giving it considerable and serious thought (maybe for the first time, ever).

And what did my kid do???

She ran upstairs to get the new watch she’d received for Christmas and made me promise it all again: while she freaking recorded me for evidence! I kid you not.

It was hysterical.

And possibly, the moment I realized my promise of consideration was just a realllllly long countdown, and I better just spend the time wrapping my brain around it, ha.

Thus ensued the era of research. 

Research, research, research.

Chicklet tacked this picture to her bedroom desk (please note the “get 2023” notation), and we started talking, nonstop, about what type of dog might—might—be well suited for our family.



She had everyone in on the project.

And I mean, everyone. Teachers, friends, neighbors.

She’d come home all the time with these hysterical, nonsensical papers with words like “party poodles” written on them, or random breeds her school friends recommended. Half the time, the notes were in other kiddos’ handwriting because she had friends helping with legwork, ha.

And don’t even get me started on the library books. 

Every week of every month, for the remainder of 3rd grade, my girl came home with nothing but dog-related books from the school library.

Like these…



And these…



And these…



It was around this time—several months after the promise of truly considering the idea of getting a dog—that I realized I was toast.

It was evident, through Chicklet’s unwavering interest and commitment, that the ship had sailed and I better get the heck on board and steer it toward my preferred destination.

It was also around this time that I decided to start taking some ownership, and I even named the future dog:

Coda. :)

Yup. More than nine months ago, our as-yet-to-be-determined dog had a NAME. A name the kiddos adored and willingly told everyone in the whole wide world. Even Chicklet’s dyslexia specialist has been calling our future dog by her name (yep, we also decided from the get-go that we wanted a girl dog) since about March of last school year. I die.

And, still, the research continued…

Now.

Since we’d been doing allllll this research, Chicklet had a pretty specific idea in her head of the visual of her future dog, and, as luck would have it, right around this time (Spring 2023), one of her good buddies at school got a puppy—a fact that slayed Chicklet, since she was trying SO hard to get one, herself.

However. In the end, this friend’s puppy ended up being a really helpful development for us, as it really narrowed our search down to two breeds: Maltese, and Cavapoo (the breed of this friend’s puppy).

Now. It’s important to note right about now that I KNOW sooooooooo many of you reading this might want to cancel me over the fact that I didn’t just take my kiddos down the street to a shelter and adopt a dog.

Trust me, I’m WELL AWARE of the judgment, people.

With more than a year of in-the-weeds research, you can better betcha I’ve received every type of unsolicited advice in the world, a gazillion types over: size, breed, gender, temperament, training, adopt versus breeder, vets, boarding, what freaking season of the year to get a dog…you name it and alllllllll the people in the world have felt the need to give me their “advice.”

But at the end of the day, with all due respect…it’s my life. And my responsibility. And our family pet. What works for another family is fantastic. You do you, boo. And I’ll do me. ;)

With as much reticence and anxiety as I still feel over the idea of a pet, I require a much greater degree of control and planning and lead time and hand-holding, so going through a breeder was just the best practice for us. The end.

We spent a decent chunk of time networking, and in the end, Maltese fell off the list at that point, as we just weren’t making any headway.

But everything happens for a reason, and God’s timing is impeccable, because, in late July, Chicklet and Little Man went to their summer day camp with Chicklet’s friend who’d gotten the Cavapoo puppy in the Spring.

So that week, we spent soooo much time with their sweet little dog, and it sort of solidified the fact that this would be the perfect breed for us. :) 

The deal was sealed when we reached out to this family’s contact. The Broker, for lack of better word, since this gentlemen isn’t the one actually breeding puppies, but instead, placing puppies with families—as a side “job” no less, for the past two decades, just for the joy of it. :)

He’s been a Godsend to us. The nicest guy, who’s spent so much time with us on the phone. He has such a warm and kind demeanor, and an ultra-relaxed and supportive vibe regarding the whole process.

After connecting with him in late summer, we sort of had an “in,” I guess you could say. He was kind enough to keep us in a very informative loop regarding two litters of puppies that were born in August, and we literally had our pick of the litter (the only time I will EVER get to use that phrase, for realsies!)—and there was one specific girl who called to us, for sure.

Though the hubby and I were diligently working toward making this happen, officially, we really started to ramp up the financial conversations with the kiddos, reminding them of the general expense of owning a puppy.

Chicklet—ever the leader in this dog endeavor—made a savings goal drawing and we started collecting money in a bowl (that Chicklet painted specifically for Coda) so we could keep this financial process top of mind.



I was impressed with how readily the kiddos emptied their piggy banks as seed money—yet another sign of their commitment.

I was less impressed with the unintended and often-hilarious, accidental side-effect of the kiddos believing us to be very poor; too poor to ever afford a dog. 

My personal favorite was Chicklet’s homework last week, when she came up with a sentence utilizing the spelling word, “affordable”: Dogs are affordable for rich people.

Now. As of a week or two ago, the kiddos know that this potential girl puppy is healthy and growing well, and they’re hoping (hoping, HOPING), that she might be ours…eventually. Like, maybe in a month, if we’re lucky.

But what they don’t know is that the hubby and I made the official commitment about 10 days ago that she would be ours. :)

And the hubby drove several hours tonight, to go get out girl and bring her home tomorrow, as an epic surprise for the kiddos.

If we pull this off, it might be the best surprise we ever manage on behalf of our crazy kiddos.

I’ve turned the guest bathroom into puppy central over the last two days, as they never go in there unless we have company in town. 

And I’m just praying, SO HARD, we can manage to pull this off! Literally, about 14 hours to go, after a long, long road to get here.

So many people probably think I’m crazy for putting so much thought into this process. But I know myself well, and this lengthy ordeal has also served me well.

A year ago, I was absolutely, completely against this process, but, now…I’m on board. This past year has essentially been like one long nesting period, and it’s helped me shift my anxiety into excitement.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m still incredibly nervous about this whole thing. I feel completely out of my element.

But…I’ve also become that person who giddily shows off pics of a tiny puppy to her friends and scours the internet for the cutest hot pink doggie bowls and accessories—and that is a huge win in my book.

For the record, I’m still not a dog person. But I have faith that I’m a my dog person, and I can’t wait for this adventure to begin, already. :)

MUCH MORE MAÑANA.

Over and out, peeps.