The last time I routinely saw sunrise was when my children were infants, their biological needs trumping any night-owl tendencies I had. With a six-month-old puppy in the house, the same is true.
We finally got Rex, our foster puppy, to sleep all night in his crate without whining -- a hard-won battle! -- but, like any puppy, his bladder and bowel needs can be rather urgent. Having worked so hard to curb his crate anxiety, I wanted to be sure that we let him out of the crate as early in the morning as we could -- before he started whining.
That means I've seen more early mornings these past two weeks than I have in a very, very long time. This does not amuse me, as you might guess, but I hope it won't last long.
Early mornings aren't the only flashback to those early years.
|This picture makes him look small, but he's the same size as Kane (though less bulky).|
Three times this week both Steve and I went out, leaving Rex with our son, Peter. The first time was daytime, which is easier for Rex, so we weren't too worried. In the second case, I seriously debated bringing Rex with me -- it was to a meeting of volunteers, and Rex is so calm that I'm sure he would have been fine -- but decided that this would be a good learning opportunity.
The third time, it was for our first date since bringing home the puppy. We arranged our dinner reservation around Rex's sleep schedule. And I felt exactly like I did as a new mother. I felt like I was forgetting something. I wanted to talk about the puppy and all the trials we were having with sleep and toileting. How perfect -- and perfectly frustrating -- he was.
Away from Rex, I found myself checking my phone to see if Peter was having any difficulties, if the dogs were both asleep. If Rex had regressed to his earlier crate anxiety.
I have learned a little from those early days of worrying about my babies at home: I have NOT phoned the sitter. I didn't even text him. That's progress, right?