They tell you to expect the worst: peeing on the floor, sleepless nights, chewed underwear and ruined plans. Yet, we always think that for some reason our puppy will be different. That for some reason we will be able to train them out of going through all of the puppy developmental phases. News flash–we can’t. On top of that, it seems common to get a pet to fill some sort of emotional void in our lives, to have something to shower our overflow of love on. While we are aware of the potential challenges that a puppy brings, we minimize them and justify our decision by telling ourselves that this decision will ultimately lead to our happiness. At least that’s what I told myself.
I don’t want to overgeneralize and assume that everyone who gets a dog makes the decision for the same reasons. There are lots of reasons to get a dog that go far beyond distracting from your own problems. Dogs offer companionship, a challenge, a kind of stepping-stone for couples thinking of starting their own family; they completely shift the dynamic of any household they enter–generally in a favourable way.
I have been going through a tough time lately. I have been planning to get a puppy for years now, but it never seemed to be the right time. I don’t really believe that there ever is a right time for anything, only a best time. To me, there were a few big reasons why now seemed like the best time to get a dog. I was/am in the midst of navigating through an emotionally taxing (albeit mostly amicable) break-up, got a job where I work remotely, and have been mandated to stay home by the government. Time has been the main thing stopping me from getting a dog in the past, but now I find myself with an excess of it.
On top of that, I clearly need(ed) an emotional outlet. As is probably obvious by now, I’m not great at letting go. That’s a topic for another post, however. I thought it would be great to have something to love and care for, especially something that would reciprocate those feelings unconditionally.
(Enter: Murphy)
I picked up this adorable angel on June 6th, 2020. He truly is the best puppy that anyone could ask for. He is excited and playful, he is eager to learn, easy to train and his ‘puppy moments’ are few and far between. He already loves me so much. It’s funny how dogs don’t have to say it, you can just tell by the way that they look at you. Overall, he as stolen my heart and the hearts of everyone else he meets. Despite that, there have been some obvious challenges.
I won’t get into the details, simply because my puppy problems are akin to everyone else’s. We’re working on housetraining, crate training, coming when called, not nipping while playing… those kinds of things. Those things take time, training and consistency (obviously). Seems like a straightforward recipe for success, right? Wrong.
What I didn’t realize was how much I lacked those things already. The pandemic has made the concept of time change drastically. Hours bleed into days, which bleed into weeks, and next thing you know three months have passed. Without a regular schedule, there is no benchmark with which to compare our time spent doing various tasks. Time has basically become this arbitrary construct (but maybe it always was). So, when you’re asked once again to add structure, it almost feels like you have forgotten how to. All of a sudden most parts of my day are scheduled: wake up at this time, work from this time until this time, go to bed at this time, try to mix in food, a workout and a nap if possible. So, while the pandemic had initially robbed me of structured time and consistency, getting a puppy is forcing me back to something closer to my old normal… and it is a tough adjustment to make. That’s an adjustment that I would need to make either way, having Murphy has just expedited the process.
Another complication motherhood has added to my life is sleep deprivation. Sure, as a student this is something that I am all too familiar with. Party all night, wake up, go to work, come home and sleep off the hangover. The difference is now, that the late nights are for potty breaks, the early mornings are also for potty breaks, and there is no recovery time allotted. Usually I hear from parents, ‘Sleep when they sleep’, and I totally agree. However, I am supposed to be working full-time this summer. So, while he sleeps, I grind.
Having another being to take care of also really guides your choices. While I have always considered myself a thoughtful person, now every single decision I make effects Murphy. While he’s getting better with crate training, he is still not quite comfortable being left alone for periods of time. It’s something that I’m working on, but with everything that I’m doing being based from home, having that as a consistent part of his day is challenging. It’s definitely one of the aspects of puppy-parenting that I need to improve on. Basically, my day is not my own. I schedule meetings around when he’ll be sleeping, I don’t often go out with friends because I don’t want to leave him for too long, etc. I knew that this would be a challenge that I would face, but I thought that I had more time to plan for contingencies. With COVID being so prolific, I really wasn’t expecting things to open up until much later into the summer–when Murphy would be fine being left alone for a few hours in my room. Of course, that’s never how it works out.
I feel like I’m rambling on, but I promise that this post is tapering to a point. I got a puppy because it felt like the best time, and it was. I also had the expectation that getting a puppy would solve a lot of emotional obstacles that I have been facing lately. Here’s what getting a puppy really has done:
- It made getting ‘Meg time’ exponentially harder. Things like working out, drinking, going for walks in the park, *blogging*–all of those things now required strategies to accommodate Murphy.
- It made being social a challenge. Because he’s not housetrained, I don’t like the idea of him having accidents in someone else’ house, and therefore I would prefer people come to see me. Going out is a challenge. Although it needs to happen, I hate hearing the anxiety that it causes him and so I avoid it.
- It made sleep a rare and precious resource. If I don’t get sleep the night before, I can almost count on not recovering that time.
- It also made a precious resource out of time and emotional capacity. When you’re stressed, sleep-deprived, and not doing the things you usually would to fuel yourself, it is so easy to get burnt out. With a limited amount of time, you find yourself doing the things that you have to do, rather than the things you want to do… thus furthering the burnout.
That aspect of time management extends far beyond the day-to-day, it also infiltrates my ability to address psychological challenges. The lack of time has forced me to prioritize tasks as well as thoughts. I genuinely do not have time to worry about whether or not the random girl at the gas station was judging my outfit. I do not have the emotional capacity to feel anxious about not being able to put on makeup that day. So, in essence, the small things really fall away and become inconsequential. On the other hand, the issues that truly need addressing become exacerbated and impossible to ignore.
I was feeling very, very lonely before getting a puppy. It was the combination of being away from my family, my friends, going through a complicated break-up, and having the friends that I do have contact with happily coupled. Basically, just constant reminders of the fact that I was going it (mostly) alone. I thought having a puppy would fix this. But really, what it did was further isolate me, sleep deprive me, and lower my emotional threshold. While Murphy gives me unconditional love, he cannot fix my loneliness because that is within me.
Eventually, I got to a breaking point (about 2.5 weeks after bringing him home). I realized that a puppy had to fit into my life, not the other way around. I started leaving him for an hour or so in his crate, I found ways to work out and invest time in myself, but biggest of all–I reached out for help.
I want to clarify; I didn’t willingly reach out for help… I kind of fell into it. I went to visit my dad for a day in Hamilton, and he took care of Murphy for the afternoon while I ran some errands. I got back to the farm, we went for a walk, and I started to pack my things into the car. As I was packing, I found myself engulfed in a full-blown panic attack for the first time since early March. I could not have felt more dread or anxiety about going back to London. I ended up staying the weekend in Dundas, and really opening up to my dad for the first time ever. My parents have always stressed the importance of being independent–financially, mentally, emotionally. I truly didn’t know what to expect when I opened-up. But they exceed my expectations, kicked it into full-gear and activated a support network for me that I had failed to see myself. They showed up for me as the best versions of themselves, and demonstrated that no matter what, they would always be there to support me.
Another thing that I was forced to do was examine my relationships with other people, specifically one in particular. For a long time, I believed that having this person in my life added more than it took away. With my lowered emotional threshold, I realized just how draining this relationship really was. I was being constantly bombarded by boundary-crossing, mixed signals and emotional unavailability. I would feel safe enough to open up, and then be persecuted when I expressed emotions that didn’t align with their perspective. At the same time, however, this relationship gave me a sense of familiarity, and therefore a sense of comfort. The familiarity was derived from more than just the individual themselves, but also the nature of the relationship in general. I am used to explosive outburst of frustration, I’m used to having my emotions invalidated, I am used to unpredictability and the expectation of inexhaustible empathy. When everything was changing and uncertain, this familiarity made me feel more grounded.
It would be unfair to not acknowledge all the positives about this relationship. There were moments where it was really fun, where I felt a deep sense of connection, and where I felt very understood. At one point, those aspects dominated this relationship. But in the recent months, the negative aspects of this relationship were just as common as the positive ones. From an outside perspective, this was easy to see. From an inside perspective, however, a history rich in happiness and affection felt like enough to justify the sadness that the relationship was currently causing.
The disrespect and condescension got to a point where I really questioned my intrinsic value, and the validity of my feelings. Every time I expressed emotions that were egotistically damaging, I would be attacked. My sadness was met with what (at the time) seemed like empathy, but was really pity. Arguments were cyclical and infinite. Apologies were given, but actions were never changed. The dissonance between words and actions began to feel a lot like manipulation. I had been down this road before, and I was truly not interested in walking down it once again. However, that didn’t stop it from happening initially.
I don’t love the word ‘manipulation’, because I feel like it insinuates intention. However, in this case there wasn’t any harmful intention, just ignorance, lack of emotional maturity and a strong sense of entitlement. I was expressing my concerns, they were being heard, and then for the most part being dismissed as ‘not their problem’. Because of the nature of our relationship, there was a sense of entitlement to continue to act in a way that disregarded my feelings. Every time I asked for consideration, it was almost like they would double-down on their hurtful actions to assert their unwillingness to accommodate my emotions (as if I needed the constant reminders). It was really easy to dismiss this behaviour as coming from a place of naivety, and so that’s what I did. Because I was already feeling so lonely, ending this relationship felt counter-productive. I continued to make excuses, to accommodate, to forgive, to care, to empathize… all in the hopes that I could avoid walking away from someone I felt so deeply for. I thought that what I was doing was easier, but really it was staying in this relationship that was most counterproductive.
I think that I knew this all along, but I only recently was forced to confront this realization. The condescension became so bad, that I was turning to my friends and their partners to re-affirm my value as human—something that I haven’t done in a really long time. I told them that this person spoke to and treated me as thought they were ‘out of my league’. So, I asked my friends that exact question: were they actually out of my league? What I was looking for was external validation, but what I actually got was even more valuable.
In response to my question, one of my friends said, ‘Megan, you’re asking yourself the wrong question. You shouldn’t be asking if they are out of your league. What you should be asking is if they are contributing to your personal growth, and pushing you to be a better version of yourself.’
This was a really profound statement, and one that replayed in my head for almost a week after it was made. The truth was, that although the person in question was at one point so facilitative to my personal growth, now they were holding me back.
So, here is an updated list of what bringing home Murphy has really done:
- It has forced me to ask for help from those around me, and reaffirmed that when I ask for it that it will be there.
- It has brought me closer to my parents than I have been in years.
- It has taught me how to prioritize my ‘me’ time in order to maintain my sanity. Just because Murphy has arrived doesn’t mean that Meg has to disappear.
- It has brought unconditional love and endless laughter into my life in the form of kisses, morning cuddles, puppy moments and clumsiness.
- The diminished emotional capacity has forced me to dismiss issues of low importance, and address issues that I have been avoiding addressing for fear of the consequences.
At the end of the day, puppies offer their own set of problems and challenges. They also force you to re-examine your own life, identify larger issues, and address them. All-the-while, they’re there to support you with unconditional love and an inexhaustible capacity for forgiveness when you fail. So, when I say ‘puppy problems’, what I really mean is ‘me problems’. I will get through the puppy stages, and throughout this whole process I will be raising my most loyal companion. That is something that I know for certain. What is less certain, however, is my willingness (not ability) to address my own problems. But Murphy deserves the best version of me that he could possibly have, and it is my responsibility to create an environment in which I can become that.