Tales of a Terrible Terrier

I'm not a good puppy Mom and I'm raising a hellion puppy. I don't intend to but that seems to be the course we are on.

I'm reading the puppy books, watching the Puppy Whisperer videos and episodes of Its Me Or The Dog but the puppy has chewed the corners of the borrowed library puppy books, the cord to the lap top with which I watch the videos and I miss most of the TV shows most valuable information because I have my eyes glued to puppy's butt watching to see if any poop is gonna plop down on my carpet.

I took the hellion --er, I mean --puppy. Our puppy, Franklin. I took Franklin to Pet Smart because I thought it would be good for him to get out and you know, get over exposed and over stimulated so the rambunctious creature would exhaust himself to sleep when we got home --sounded perfectly reasonable to me. Thus, we adventured ourselves out to Pet Smart. I had in mind to purchase some toys that were recommended by the puppy books.

Taking Franklin to Pet Smart made me feel like one of those really bad mothers with really bad kids you occasionally come across in the store. No, I'm not talking about the kid that has a melt down, loses his sanity for a brief moment when he sees a toy he HAS to have and yet can't have, or the basic "I'm going to display a lack of manners and healthy dose of disobedience just because we're in public and I think I can get away with it" moments. No, not that kind of stuff. I'm talking about the kids who are completely out of control, running, screaming, crying, throwing tantrums and the parents are completely out of control, running, screaming, crying and throwing tantrums . . . those situations when it takes every ounce of your strength not to snatch that child up and give him the spanking he really deserves, harshly set him down in the cart and sternly say to him, "You are disturbing the shopping experience of 50 other people! Now sit down, be quiet and obey your mother AND NO! YOU ARE NOT GETTING BUZZ LIGHT YEAR! YOU HEARD YOUR MOTHER --YOU HAVE TWO OTHERS AT HOME THAT YOU NEVER PLAY WITH."

So yeah, Franklin was like one of those kids. Out! Of! Control!

First of all, Franklin thinks every person in the world exists to be his friend. I mean, I admire the little fella's friendliness but how do I get across the Stranger Danger lessons to my canine lad? Every person we saw, and I do mean EVERY person we saw, dear Franklin wanted to give them his own personal greeting. But he's such a spastic puppy and likes to gnaw and chew as his form of affection, most people don't take too kindly to getting gnawed at. And the ill mannered pup leaps and jumps onto people and you know, that's not acceptable public behavior either. So I have to control the leash and keep Franklin at a safe distance from people --but the people don't make it any easier when they behold my fluffy little Yorkie and exclaim in a high-pitched voice, "Oh he's so cute!" Which is only like a personally engraved invitation to Franklin to leap and jump and nibble and bite . . . . .

Franklin was out of control --he was like a bumble bee buzzing around at top speed --he jumped onto the shelves, grabbed merchandise off of shelves, crawled under the shelves, yipped, yapped, zipped and zapped. He was so out of control I finally picked him up to calm him down but he was out of his Yorkie puppy mind and almost jumped out of my arms. Other doggie owners were looking at me with either pity or disgust. As Franklin ransacked his way through the store, choking himself and gasping for air as he pulled his leash to full throttle, other doggie owners would see us coming and say to their nicely behaved dog, "SIT!", and the dog would sit and watch Franklin cruise by out of control, me at the other end of the leash desperately trying to keep up with my puppy's steroid pace. As we turned one corner I had a moment of panic when I saw a little girl about 3 years old and as soon as she saw Franklin she bolted towards him yelling, "PUPPY!" All I could think is Franklin would nip that poor toddler's nose right off her face! And I think the little girl's Mom sensed that panic in me because as I was reeling the leash in to gain better control of my pup, the Mom was running towards her daughter saying, "No, remember Mommy said we don't pet dogs unless . . " Finally I grabbed my hellion dog while she got hold of her sweet little girl and thus, her nose stayed in tact with her face.

We had to cut our trip to Pet Smart short but not before I dropped a cool $50 on a new collar, leash and toys. The new collar was because Franklin, known in some finer circles as FDR, learned how to get his old collar into his mouth and loosen it. I needed a collar of a different material that wouldn't slide so easily. Well then of course, I HAD to buy the matching leash. I also bought toys the puppy books recommended and the labels promised, "hours and hours of fun and chewing" but FDR just looked at them and me like we were both crazy --and opted to chew on my toes, furniture, books, shoes . . . so much for the puppy book recommended toys!

I could go on with more tales of a terrible terrier (or is that tails of a terrible terrier) but I have to take my FDR out to pee and poop and then crate him for the evening and then myself get to bed because you know, 5am comes awfully early and that's the magic hour FDR start howling for another pee break.

FDR certainly is not living up to his distinguished presidential name --he's more like a Lindsay Lohan.