Chickendoodle

Yes, in the midst of all the September craziness, we still have a puppy.

Indy is growing, and slowly growing on me. It’s not that I don’t like the dog. I wanted the dog! But, as a friend shared with me, having a puppy is a love/hate relationship. Some days, I love Indy to furry little pieces. Other days, I want to ring his scruffy neck. That is, if I could find it under all that fur. Diesel was a very low-maintenance dog. Indy is a puppy, and by his very nature, takes up a lot of my time. A lot. OF. My. Time. I swear that having a newborn was easier.

That all being said, Indy is learning and so am I. He’s potty-trained (Halleluiah!!), and quickly learned to ring a bell at our kitchen door when he wants to go out. This is great, but not always effective. When Indy wants to play, he’ll ring the bell. No better way to get my attention, especially when I’m making dinner, doing homework, on the phone. Read: Indy is just like one of my children!! But, he’s also learned to sit, give his paw, stay and come. Pierre and I installed an elective fence (so easy as a DIY) a few weeks ago, and it didn’t take long for Indy to learn the limits of his territory. Which is fun, because now we can take him out to play without a leash. Not bad for a four month-old pup.

So, we’ve established that Indy is a fast learner. What he is not, is brave. Look, I knew that we weren’t getting a guard-dog when we brought Indy home. When your dog looks like a Muppet, he doesn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of men (or women). Try saying the word Goldendoodle with a straight face. Yeah. That’s what I thought.

But, I like the security that having a dog brings to our home. Diesel was a big dog with a big growl. And he wasn’t afraid to use it. He regularly scared the wits out of solicitors and mailpersons, particularly anyone who didn’t know what a suck he really was. Squirrels shook in their nut-filled boots. I’ve had packages delivered to the middle of my driveway because FedEx guys were afraid to approach the house. Diesel’s bark was worse than his bite, but not many knew that.

Indy has a bark that goes with his mop-top, when he barks at all. He more squeaks than snarls. Not that I mind at this point. He’s a puppy. We’ll test-run his bark when he’s a little older. I just never realized what a scaredy-cat (Yep. Called you a cat, dog) he was until this past week.

Pierre plays intermural volleyball one evening a week. Usually he’ll let Indy out when he gets home, but I was pretty tired from the events of the week (tonsils, more to come on that), so I let Indy out a little early. I wanted to get my weary self under the covers. As Indy was sniffing around outside at the end of his leash, Pierre pulled into the driveway, home sooner than excepted. Indy looked up as the car pulled into the driveway, and let out a low growl. Yes, I thought to myself. Maybe this dog has some guts after all. Maybe he will be a protector, the guard-dog of the family. Then, as Pierre turned-off the engine, Indy started to bark and snarl with earnest, straining at the end of the leash. Hooray! If that’s what a thirty-pound puppy has in him, no one is going to mess with the hundred-pound dog he will be.

Or so I thought.

As Pierre opened the car door Indy tugged hard on his leash, jerking my elbow to lock…and pulled me back up the stairs and through the kitchen door into the safety of our home. Then, he hid behind my knees until he discovered that it was only Pierre coming home. I could see the relief in Indy’s eyes. Well, I can’t actually see his eyes, but I bet they looked relieved.

So, not the bravest pup in the litter.

When I told my dad about Indy’s ‘fraidy-cat (if the shoe fits, dog) incident, he dubbed our fearsome Fraggle a Chickendoodle. Sounds about right to me.

After all, who’d be afraid of a face like this?

xo Naomi