What, we asked ourselves could possibly make up for the disappointment of a DS-less Christmas? A puppy. A warm, sweet, big brown-eyed slice of heaven. Yeah right.
Ever the bargain shoppers, we kept a diligent watch over the white lab puppy ads on KSL for weeks before the big day, and carefully documented the price drops as Christmas drew nearer.
We have had two white labs in the past, an angel dog named Vixen, who was the best dog ever, but got kicked in the face while chasing one of our horses and had to be put down; and Chester, "The Molester", as he was known by the neighborhood kids whom he victimized on a regular basis. Chester was sold to a hunter after Dawson was born and we have been so scarred by the terrible dog that he was, we haven't even mentioned getting another one until the DS issue.
The day before Christmas Eve, a lady in Eagle Mountain, which is not, "just past Lehi", agreed to lower her price and we made the trek out to pick out our Christmas miracle. I blamed Dave for picking Chester nearly a decade ago, so he laid the sole responsibility of puppy picking to me. I did my research, mostly consisting of the opinions of my morning work-out buddies, and felt I would know in my heart when it was right.
When we found the house in Eagle Mountain, a full light year from the time we left Oakley, it was overrun with kids and puppies. We waited an awkward amount of time in the living room, with a toddler staring us down from the couch, and no adults in sight. When the Mother finally showed up, she seemed surprised to see us, despite having multiple conversations and getting directions over the phone. She dragged a Tupperware carton full of puppies into the living room and I immediately flashed back to that fateful day when we took responsibility for Chester.
In a cold sweat I told her we didn't care about brute strength, or character, just to point us in the direction of the calmest puppy. There were dogs biting my boots, and yapping, and spilling out all over the Tupperware, and just when I thought we were doomed, she pulled out a fat, sleepy, little pat of buttah. He was adorable, mostly because he was comatose, and she said, he just had a "little cosmetic issue" due to a boil on his face that had to be lanced after he was born. Now being a sucker for any kind of handicap, I took the little buddaball in my arms and we left.
Fast forward Christmas morning. The kids opened their presents, towards the end, they each opened a dog toy, da-ta-da-da, the doorbell rings, confused kids find a puppy dressed in a hideous elf costume, while parents wait with baited breath, kids freak out for approximately 30 seconds then dash upstairs to play their new Wii game, leaving parents staring at puppy, named Milo, and wondering WTH we've gotten ourselves into.
In all fairness, they never asked for a puppy.
Later Christmas morning, Daveskins took Milo up to see what the kids were doing in the toy room, and to see if they remembered about their sweet new furry present. Dawson and Dyl were glued to Donkey Kong, but when Dave sat down, Dawson said, "Dad, I just love Marley." without even so much as a glance in the damn dogs direction.
Week 1 with Milo was miserable, it was like having a newborn. He slept in our room, so we'd tiptoe around, were petrified to move, and cut off all fluids after 5 PM so as not to incur any bathroom trips that might wake the baby. Most nights we would lay there trying to teach self-soothing, and just let him cry it out. Exhausting. Also getting up to take the dog out to the bathroom in -5 degrees was unpleasant, but at least we live in the country, so if anybody heard the "Go potty Milo.... Hurry....... GO potty Milo! GO POTTY MILO!........... TAKE A #%$@ DOG AND GET YOUR @%% IN THE HOUSE!" They didn't say so.
Alas, If there were any thoughts towards future additions to our family, that would be laughable now, as my body essentially went into survival mode and I am pretty sure I felt my ovaries shrivel up and die.
Week 2 with Milo was the start of a very expensive relationship with Dr. Isom, our lovely local veterinarian. On our inaugural visit we purchased the "Puppy Package" including all his shots and deworming for the first year, and at only $100, very reasonable I thought. However, being trapped in a waiting room full of animal lovers cost more than I can pay.
One woman asked me in a very high baby voice, "how owd id yo bay-bee?"
"What? Oh, she is four. Not really a baby anymore."
"No, Silllly, your BAY-BEEE." Nodding towards the dog.
"Oh, that's my DAWG, and he is PUP-PY age. Now please move away before I am forced to pee in a large circle to regain my personal space."
Week 3 with Milo had some ups, and a lot of downs. He started out the week, potty trained. He would ring the bell on the back door and we would trudge down the walk of shame,(a path through the back yard to the pasture that Dave snowblowed out) and he would do his biz. It was bliss for a few days, then he started to pee on himself and in his crate and we knew something was wrong. Back to the vet, and $100 later, he was diagnosed with a UTI. I've never even had one of those!
Week 4 found us with projectile vomiting and another trip to the vet, where it was discovered that Milo had an allergy to the antibiotic for his UTI, and for another $100 we got the diagnosis and another antibiotic.
Week 5 we had a follow-up appointment where the vet voiced concerns over the spot under Milo's eye that had previously been reported to us as an abscess. Ever since we got Milo, Dave and I had to hold him down, morning and night to warm pack and express pus out of the sore. The vet thought that since the abscess wasn't healing, it probably was a tooth trying to come out of his face.....................
There was some profanity involved. I am not really hung up on cosmetics, and I love a good handicap, but fo reals, a tooth sticking out of my dog's face? I could only imagine the shame that would bring in the neighborhood, and with everyone he would meet, "Hi, this is my adorable dog Milo, only pet his ass end, cause he doesn't have teeth there." Really?
We took an x-ray, which was inconclusive and only cost $70. We will have to wait and see.
Week 6 with Milo, who had regained his potty trained-ness was delightful until he started peeing everywhere again. His symptoms were similar to the first episode, not really meaning to pee, just dribbling and really only when Dave was around. Dave got a sample and took it to the vet, who tested it for $40 and told us that he didn't have an infection, but offered an explanation that since it was so similar, that maybe Milo's urethra wasn't attached to his bladder and we could find out by doing a series of x-rays with dye and then have it surgically corrected...............Ka-ching.
That was a dark night in the Broadbent household, trying to decide our level of devotion to the money pit we had owned for a little over a month, and who may or may not have a tooth growing out of his face. In our anxiety Dave turned to the Internet and found the real diagnosis and cure, all fo free.
As it turns out, Milo has Submissive Urination. You can Google it if you are all that interested, but all the times we had to hold him down and treat his eye, he saw as us being dominant or some crap. It doesn't help that Daveskins has that deep voice either, so when he would tell Milo, No! about peeing or chewing or whatever, it caused Milo's psyche to feel the need to show submission to Dave by peeing.........or some crap.
At least the cure is free. We just have to build up Milo's confidence. The last few days this has provided endless entertainment for us. All of a sudden Milo has discovered his need to procreate. This is a little alarming seeing as though we are still a good two months from being able to neuter him. When we read that the cure to his peeing was directly linked with his confidence I did my part, for the nano second that he had latched onto my leg, in building his confidence by praising his humping. I reassured him what a great humper he was, before knocking him off, and I think he really took it to heart.
He won't leave my leg alone now, and throws both front legs around my shin and makes me drag him everywhere, it's pathetic. It's Dave's leg he should be attached too, since it's Dave that he seems to be "submitting to" on my floors. We have to be careful not to let him get to confident however, since Ems called to me yesterday and said that Milo was hugging her. Sho nuf, I came around the corner and he was hugging the crap out of her, while she was pinned to the rug.
So although not many days go by between the "we shudda just got them DSs,'" we have fallen in love with our expensive, snaggle-toothed, mentally unstable, horn-dog; and I guess if every family has one, we can count our blessings that ours actually has fur, and sleeps in a crate.
Linsey, that was the best laugh I've had in a while! I am glad you are learning to love your expensive, horny dog. You also look amazing!! So way to go you!
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