Well, here we are, four months into life as dog owners. Back in the spring, we weren’t sure we’d take the plunge into dog ownership. But buoyed by our kids’ excitement, we decided to go for it, surprising the kids with our very own cavapoo on Easter Sunday.
And let’s just say life hasn’t been the same since.
When we decided on a cavapoo, we thought we were selecting a small, family-friendly dog. The breeder told us to expect our puppy’s adult weight to be 15lbs. Everything we read online said Cavapoos were known to be friendly. Docile. Quiet. Needing only about 30 minutes of exercise a day.
A small, friendly, quiet dog who only needed 30 minutes of daily activity? That sounded like a perfect fit for our family. He’d be small enough to ride on an airplane. Large enough to walk the kids to school. Just the right temperament for snuggling with us on the couch.
So, after poring over breeders and videos of recently born puppies, we decided on a brown fluffball from Upstate New York who weighed in at two pounds at his eight-week appointment.
When he arrived, he was even cuter than his pictures. The kids fell in love immediately. Yet right away, we could tell that our cavapoo seemed a little different than what we’d expected.
Otter, as we named him, was already much larger than advertised. At 11 weeks, he weighed in at almost ten pounds. He also had massive paws, a healthy enthusiasm for barking, and quite a bit of energy for a dog who supposedly only needed thirty minutes of exercise a day.
Otter also had some other quirks. Instead of snuggling on the couch, he preferred to eat it. In fact, he liked to eat everything, especially our hands. And if the kids tried to play with him too often, he’d tire of them, retreating to his crate.
At first, we figured this was all normal puppy stuff. So we sprinkled our furniture with cayenne pepper to discourage chewing, bought him a full bin of chew toys, and told the kids to give him some space. Then we increased his walks and prayed that Otter would chill out – and stop growing – soon.
But grow he did. Like Clifford the Big Red Dog, Otter grew and grew and grew. Today, at seven months old, Otter weighs 29lbs, and he is still growing.
He is too big for an airplane, too big for one walk a day, and just tall enough that he can even snatch food off our bar-height counters. We like to joke that he is the biggest cavapoo on earth.
He might also be the craziest. To date, he has ripped down wallpaper, torn a hole in our rug, and destroyed the bottoms of every chair and barstool. He has even taken a few bites out of the only piece of furniture I actually cared about – the farmhouse table we had custom-made when our oldest was a baby. It remains one of the only pieces of “real” furniture in our entire house.
Completely overwhelmed, we turned to a dog trainer who seemed to specialize in challenging cases. He came to our house and gave us some homework, providing instructions on obedience and discipline. For a while, it worked.
Relief coursed through my veins as we completed the training sessions with vigor. Like teachers’ pets, we completed every homework assignment. Attended every session. All while shelling out more money than I ever dreamed I’d spend on dog training.
But it was worth it! Because Otter was responding! He could “Sit,” “Stay,” and “Come,” with ease! Overnight, he became better on the leash! He even stopped sneaking into the mudroom and growling at us as he luxuriated atop our shoes!
But soon enough, Otter regressed. He no longer cared if we told him “no.” Nor did he care if he was placed outside or in his crate after bad behavior. The honeymoon was over.
Like a kid happy to go to her room, Otter resumed his poor behavior, giving me that “What you gonna do about it?” look every time he bit into one of my rattan barstools.
He also added a few new behaviors to his list of tricks. Most impressive was opening the kitchen cabinets, stealing contraband, and bringing it to his crate, where he’d protect it with his life.
And so we secured the cabinets. Doubled down on our training exercises. Added a third daily walk.
Yet still he marched around our house like the king of the castle. When I saw him joyfully prancing after a butterfly on one of his outdoor timeouts, I felt defeated. We hadn’t just gotten the world’s biggest cavapoo, but the most stubborn as well.
Of course, it hasn’t all been bad. Mixed in with the crazy has been a lot of joy as well.
Otter has always slept well, and he potty-trained easily. At night, he enjoys jumping on the couch and smothering us in kisses. If one of the kids cries, he’s the first to run over and offer comfort. In the mornings, he does this adorable little stretch when he comes out of his crate. And he often lets the kids abuse him in all sorts of ways, from picking him up to dressing him in sweaters and dancing while holding his front paws.
During the day, when I am home, he is mostly well-behaved. As I write this, he is sleeping by my feet. Asleep, he looks peaceful, friendly, docile. Full hours pass when I find myself lulled into a sense of calm, tricked into believing this dog thing is pretty great.
Especially when I think about his positive effect on the kids. Like how he’s taught them about responsibility. Gone are the days of eating snacks on the couch. Food is now consumed solely in the kitchen. Toys are regularly put away. Our oldest even takes him on short walks, a new chore both walker and dog enjoy.
And yet the challenges of these puppy days remain. Currently, we have a new chewing deterrent spray on order. We continue to debate more training. At some point, we will need new wallpaper.
Yet, I am hopeful that, like parenting, these challenges will fade in time. That we will triumph over the world’s largest, most stubborn cavapoo and restore order in our home. That soon his attention span will lengthen, his mischievousness will lessen, and our mutual love for each other will continue to grow.
Let’s hope it happens while we still have some furniture—and fingers—left.
