This guy is giving us a run for our money. He’s a happy one. An energetic one. Almost a year and he’s only become more happy, more energetic.
Too happy, too energetic. Perhaps.
Every day, we have to brace ourselves to come home. Would he have pushed the bathroom door open and spread the garbage all over the living room floor? What part of the couch will they have destroyed? Will their teeth have found the crisp pages of my books?
She’s not innocent either.
Yes, we could crate him. But he grew out of the crate months ago and we’ve been reluctant to buy a new one, especially since our house is not exactly resplendent with space.
Will he get better? Is this just the terrible twos or did we go drastically wrong somewhere? Perhaps we weren’t firm enough. Gave him too much space, too early. Went lax on his ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ in a way that made him think those books were his. Didn’t give him enough toys to play with. Put too much temptation in front of his nose. Didn’t spend long enough time at the dog park. Too many cookies. Not enough cookies.
Good thing I love him anyway.