Easily Excitable

This year has been a momentous one in the Kotara singlewide. 

This year is the first time Trey and I have ever taken a trial run at caring for another life. 

This probably isn’t new news for you, but it’s always good to have a little refresher. 

In February, we got one young Boone Kotara. Our little baby fluff ball has turned into a 52 lb big-dog-lookin’ puppy. 

I could sum up much of this post in a single sentence: he looks mature, but he acts anything but. 

Kind of like his owners, you say? Offensive, but not altogether untrue. 

This was a special summer (so sad that I have to speak of it in the past tense!) 

because this was the first one where I had a constant sidekick. 

Let me catch you up on all things Boone. 

Boone follows me from room to room, and he especially loves bonding in the bathroom. He sits on the bathmat and stares at me while I kiss my privacy goodbye. 

In the winter months, he also enjoyed laying on the bathmat in the hot steam, but seeing as we live in a singlewide that’s known to get a little warm to the tune of 80 degrees (the highest we’ve seen this year. Praise God, because before we had two auxiliary units, it got up to 90 degrees and climbing. Marriage is a lot harder when you’re burning up.), he’s read the room and chooses to stay on his bed. 

Or, he comes in and licks my toes when I get out. 

Boone is my little shadow.

He particularly likes it when I go to throw scraps onto the discard pile in the backyard (no wonder we have bears). 

He looks deviously at the scrap pile, and I can only dream of his deepest desires to run to it and get all into the eggshells and banana peels. 

Which, speaking of rotten foods, another one of his favorite pastimes is finding bad vegetables I try to throw from the garden out into the field. 

Busted up squash? 

Rancid potatoes? 

Rotten tomatoes? 

All the above might as well be his love language. 

As he feasts on them, I am left to screech, “Leave it!” and then I’m forced to Google, “Can dogs eat *insert food or otherwise here*?”

Don’t ever do that unless you absolutely have to. It’ll scare you half to death. 

It’s like Googling your symptoms for a sinus infection and finding out from WebMD that you have prostate cancer. 

I won’t say I’ve ever done that, but I won’t say I never did, either. 

Chances are, there’s nothing to worry about. 

I’m also struck by just how much having a dog reveals about your relationship with your spouse. 

Trey couldn’t figure out why Boone reacted differently to our commands. 

I’m sure he was wondering why Boone behaved so well for me. He probably thought it was my very commanding and fear-inducing personality. 

Well, sidenote, he shouldn’t have worried about that period because Boone doesn’t behave for me either. I just lie and say he does to make myself look like a better parent. 

I’M KIDDING. 

However, Trey came to the realization one day that the problem wasn’t Boone. 

It was me.

It all came to a head when Trey said, “See, his problem is he can’t understand us. I say sit. You say, “SI-YUT!”

He acts like I have an accent or something??

I also understand the whole parenting gig a little bit more. 

See, nothing is as humbling as a dog. Or a child. 

Just when you start to see some progress, and just when you start to get really high and mighty about yourself, lo and behold, you’ll go somewhere, and the dog will embarrass the fire out of you. 

All you can think or, if you’re brave enough, say, is, “I swear he doesn’t do this at home.”

And you’ll know that that dog or that child is there to humble you or ruin your life. 

The best days for Boone have been pool days. 

Trey told my Momma the other day, “A tired dog is a good dog, but a tired child is not a good child.” 

If we keep on dispensing all this parenting wisdom, we are really going to end up with some hot mess children. 

The surefire way to tire this dog out is taking him to the pool.

Boone likes to sit on the top step of the pool because he likes the water but also fears it. 

He also fusses over Trey and me. Anytime we get away from the side, he sprints around the pool. 

He sometimes throws a whine in for good measure. 

Then, he gets all in a tizzy when we jump in. 

When it’s just Boone and me at the pool, he gets even more nervous. 

I swear he’s so glad to see Trey at the end of the day because, after putting in 12 hours with me, he is sick and tired of trying to keep me alive. 

Boone carries a lot of weight on his furry shoulders. 

I also have given him any number of nicknames. 

I’ve never been a big user of the too-sweet baby voice when speaking to children and animals, but that’s flown out the door. His nicknames include…  

Boone, 

Boo-Boo

Boo-shee

Shee-shee

Sheemie

Precious

Sweet baby.

Sweet, little, precious baby.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

What might be the best is that I’ve taught Boone to go inside by saying, “Si, si.” (Pronounced SIGH-SIGH.)

Trey’s out there calling out “SI, SI!” because he could have married a normal woman but chose not to. 

He’s sitting in the pit of my madness out of his own volition. 

Saturday and Sunday mornings are the best. 

The past couple of weekends, we’ve (I’ve) put Boone in the middle of us. We then snuggle that puppy until we all want to vomit. 

It’s glorious. 

Speaking of vomit, I got him a braided bison tendon to chew on. I thought it was a great idea. 

It smells terrible, and it’s made the whole back room smell a little funky. 

It makes Boone’s breath stink to high heavens. 

Needless to say, he loves this braided bison tendon, and he forgets the rest of the world when he’s chewing away at it. 

I reserve it for those moments when I need some puppy-free work time. 

When you need a good distraction, sometimes unorthodox methods are necessary. 

It’s our first summer with this puppy: 

I’ve loved every minute of it. 

August will be tough on both Boone and me, but I’m not sure who will grieve it more at this time. 

He may not always listen or mind because he takes after his mother, but I have to say he’s coming along pretty well. 

He’s a great companion, snuggler, caretaker, protector (until he gets an ear scratch), and I could just squeeze him to death. 

This whole puppy-parenting gig is better than I expected.