But sometimes we've got a little devil on our hands.
I didn't grow up in what people would call a pet-friendly home. As a child, the farthest I got as a pet owner was with Carl, the little green lizard (a 6-inch anole) who spent 4 lovely years in the aquarium in my bedroom. Three interesting facts about Carl: 1) I fed him crickets. 2) He was named after Carl Lewis because he was SO FAST. 3) He was actually a SHE. After his male naming, Carl laid eggs. Oh well.
Fast forward about 15 years, and I got the most wonderful gift in the world. After a long day at work, Liz came home with then a 10-week-old Kingsley. I've never been so happy.
Fast forward a year and a half, and this little puppy has grown to become such an integral part of our lives. I used to cringe when I heard people refer to pets as their "son" or "daughter." I won't say those words in public, but I get it. We love our dog and it's in a way I could never have imagined.
But now back to why I'm writing. We like to think we've trained her pretty well. She can sit, lie down, stay, leave it, won't eat her food until we say "ok," shake paws, etc., but the very staged picture above shows one of her worst talents. Jumping.
I walk her in Prospect Park during "off-leash" hours most mornings--and the amount of muddy paws she places on strangers' coats and pants each day is startling. The puppy apology worked for a while, but now that she's almost 2, that's losing some validity. Most people don't mind, but those that do, DO. And in a big, sometimes overbearing way.
It's the same thing with house guests. It's never aggressive. She doesn't bite. But she will knock you over if you're not paying attention. They laugh it off because they're friends and family, but I can tell they're wondering when she will grow out of it--if ever.
She's perfect in every single way. I love her like a daughter. There I said it. But the jumping has to go. I just talked to one of the area's best dog trainers. I'll keep you posted.
Have a great weekend.