I'm sure this won't be news to anyone who has children or who has raised a dog before from the puppy-state, but to me it's a pretty steep learning curve, existentially if not necessarily practically. My family had dogs while I was growing up, and I've always wanted a dog of my own. I've been prepared for a long time for the whole daily cycle of taking the dog out, walking the dog, feeding and watering the dog, etc. But there's a lot more to it than just those things when they're puppies, it seems. Or, at the very least, the amount of times you have to do each of those things are much higher than when you're dealing with a full-grown dog.
So, a whole lot of my day now (to the point that I'm frequently finishing lesson plans at the last minute and bursting into department meetings five minutes late and slathered in dog hair) is paying attention to the dog, and remembering constantly to do so in such a way that teaches him to behave toward me in a certain way that'll breed good habits in him as he gets older. How much I need to teach him is not necessarily surprising; it's how much I need to learn myself in terms of my habits in responding to him, playing with him, etc. that takes lots more time than I expected. Remembering to respond a certain way when he nips at my heels (which he does A LOT) is hard. Remembering not to rough house or play tug-of-war with him is hard. The hardest thing is remembering to take him straight out back to "go potty" as soon as I come home from work and not praise him before, because as soon as I walk in the door he's wagging his tail and jumping around from being so happy to see me. Ignoring that affection until it's appropriate to acknowledge it is difficult. Especially when he's so absurdly cute.
It's still difficult to accept on some fundamental level that my life isn't just about me anymore. I'm responsible for another living thing in a way that's much more basic and unrelenting than, say, with a family member, friend, or significant other. But I'm getting used to it. It's hard not to when he's so cute. I think, in my head, owning a dog was going to be 50% Taking Care Of The Dog and 50% The Dog Making Your Life Awesome. I think, in reality, that's still true...for a dog. For a puppy, it's more like 80%/20% or maybe 85%/15%. But, like I said, it's getting better.
I was thinking the other day that a lot of my twenties was taken up by my grappling with and eventually accepting the idea that it's not "selfish" to take care of yourself and your own needs before trying to be a functioning member of society. I had a hard time for a long time understanding that life wasn't just about giving of yourself irrespective of your own needs. In reality, it turns out that nobody really likes you if you make yourself miserable trying to make other people happy, because, at the core of things, you're a miserable person. So, I've spent a lot of time and effort over the last few years improving my own life under the assumption that I'm ultimately able to give back others more and better when I'm coming from a happy, content place.
While this approach to life isn't "selfish" in the negative sense of the word, it's still ultimately self-focused: I better my own life so I can better others' in return. I'm wondering if my thirties will be the time when I move on to what seems like the next logical step in this thought progression: applying a lot of my resulting, positive energy and happiness to another living thing that actually needs that from me, rather than just wanting it because we're friends, or family, or roommates. Bettering my own life so I can actually support something (or someone) else's. It's weird, but as I get older it also seems like something I should do, lest life continue on as if I'm 29 for the rest of my life.
We'll see how the dog goes, I guess. He's already peed on the floor once while I've been writing this.
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