Three years ago, when we adopted Riley, we were told that he was three years old. After a trip to our vet for his initial check-up and shots, we found out that he was, at the oldest, one year old.
My husband and I were stunned. We weren’t planning on adopting a puppy.
Puppies chew things. Puppies aren’t housebroken. Puppies require training.
Lots and lots of training…
They also have a ton of energy.
Riley has had so much energy since day one. He still does–nearly three years later. I keep thinking we should put electrodes on him and power our house and all of our neighbors’ houses, and perhaps even the entire United States. Once he’s awake (and I’ll save the part about how lazy he is until he is fully awake for another day), he is in “I want to play” mode.
I imagine that if he could talk, it would sound like this: “Hey Ma! Let’s play! Ma, let’s play! Do you want to play, Ma? Oh, you’re not playing. I guess you must want this toy! No? Okay, let me get another one. I’ll be right back. How about this toy? How about this one? Come on! Let’s play!”
It’s a good thing that he’s cute.
Besides having all the day-to-day energy, every once in a while, he proceeds to do that strange, unexpected thing that dogs do—run like lightening around the entire house for no particular reason. He’s so fast, that I keep waiting for Wile E. Coyote to show up at our home with an anvil from ACME trying to stop Riley because he has mistaken him for the Roadrunner.
I get tired just looking at this dog. I had a puppy when I was in kindergarten. I’m sure I had as much energy then as my dog did. That must have driven my poor mom out of her mind.
Well, at least I don’t have small children. If I did, I think I would need to take naps all day long.
As it is, I often end up playing with, even for just a short time.
Look at that face! It’s almost impossible to say, “No!” to him.