It’s hard to believe a whole year has gone by since we first brought Hank Marvin home. Incase you missed it, last year we surprised our kids with a bernese mountain dog.
He was a cute fucking puppy.
We could not imagine our family without him now. We have become “dog people” – not in a buy him sweaters and booties kind of way, rather we appreciate that je ne sais quoi quality that a dog brings to a home.
Spending a year with a shedding dog has given me a certain perspective that I think is worth sharing. First of all, he sheds a ton, like more than I thought was possible. I have sat in my backyard, brushing Hank until a pile of fur the size of my seven-year-old appears only to have him enter the house and dump an additional child-size fur ball on the rug. The shedding is non-stop. I knew I was buying a big hairy dog, I knew he would shed and yet I’m still surprised by the tumbleweeds of dog hair that float across my floor.
His shedding has not changed much for my cleaning regime, worrying about the cleanliness of my floor was alive and well. Prior to Hank, I was in the habit of vacuuming close to daily anyway; apparently I’m raising savages. Food on the floor is no longer the issue, thanks to Hank. It’s a trade off. Here’s the thing though, he is cute and sweet, albeit a bit dopey. At least dealing with his hair means I get to enjoy his sunny disposition. Vacuuming cereal is a thankless job – sure my kids are fed, but that lasts a whopping thirty minutes before they are back at it and my floor is littered with the aftermath.
My biggest fear was that the kids enthusiasm for having a dog would fade too soon. You can’t know for sure how their relationship with a pet will develop. I wanted the responsibility of caring for Hank to continue long after his puppy phase ended. Wizz and I have made it a point to include the kids in Hank’s care and not let them get out of picking up after Hank. I am happy that they still very much love and appreciate having a dog and are willing to help with the dirty work.
Travelling also becomes slightly more complicated. This week, Wizz and I are in California. Hank, unfortunately, had to spend two nights at my mom’s house. He was suppose to be with Leigh the entire trip, but she went to a cottage. Sure enough, he went a bit squirrely and scratched the shit out of her french doors.
Our trip to L.A. now includes the cost of replacing two french doors.
Despite that, and all the hair, and picking up dog excrement, we one hundred percent love having a dog. He messes my floors up instantly when it is muddy out, he is needy and has bad breath, but he is loveable.
To dog ownership!