Happiness of Puppyhood

This blog won’t tell you much about RVing, but maybe we can take a rest from that this week. It’s more about doggie feelings and a little about what life is about for dogs. I’m not sure humans can relate to memories of puppyhood or tiny humanhood, but maybe you’ll know us canine’s a bit better when you read it. Knowing us better can be a good thing, for both of us (canine and human).

Happiness can be re-lived and maybe extend your life. Try it.

I believe that memories help define our lives. Us dogs have short lives I’m told so I think it’s important that we remember things in our past and re-live them as much as possible. Maybe remembering the past makes it seem like our short lives are really longer by repeating the experiences in our minds. If you just remember the good times again, you can double your happiness. Makes sense to me. You can’t deny that more happiness is a good thing, can you? So, I’m sharing some of my good memories of being a puppy.

Nothing like running free in the weeds to make a dog happy! (unless it's chasing a rabbit too!)

Puppyhood is a happy time because you don’t know all the rules and you can break a lot of them without getting yelled at. They give you a lot of room for making errors and say “he’s just a puppy, he will learn, don’t be so hard on him.” And they should, because it’s true. Us puppies don’t come into life knowing everything, so we have to learn. We get a break when we are puppies that we don’t get later in life. We should take advantage of it!

I remember my first few weeks of life (I’m told that humans can’t do that…) with my five brothers and sisters. I didn’t stay with them long enough to know their real names (I think we were called by colors of the nail polish on our heads, I was red), but I got to know them pretty well since we shared a small box together for several weeks. Close physical intimacy can count for a long amount of “knowing” time (especially with the smelly breaths and bottoms of 5 dogs stuck so close to your nose.). I remember my brother that always nipped at my butt (I think he was called “Blue”). He’d pretend like it wasn’t him that did it, but I knew better. “Blue” got great pleasure from waiting until I was fast asleep and then he’d nip me in the butt with his two sharp teeth (that’s all he had then.) It kinda hurt, but I’d jump up and turn around and he’d be pretending to sleep. I got my revenge though, I was adopted before him!!

Laying around all day in a blanket lined box could be boring, but we had lots of games to play that I liked. One of my sisters, I think she was “Yellow”, (I had 4 sisters), liked to jump out of the box and hide. We’d all peer over the side, yelp and look for her. Our mom would go get her and carry her back by the scruff of the neck and drop her on top of us. Ouch! I tried it once but the whole box dumped over and all of us scrambled away looking for places to hide. Mom had a great time rounding us all up. I was always the last one to be found. I used to hide in the shoe closet. All those strong human smells masked my smell from my Mom (her name was Rachael)! I usually had to yelp to get her to notice me.

Can you remember the first time you chewed on a pine cone?

Once I was adopted and said goodbye to my real mom the happiness didn’t stop. Oh, it was sad to leave Mom and Blue and Yellow and Green and Orange and Black. But I had a new life to live now and got to go live with my adopted human parents. They lived up in the mountains in a place called Colorado and what I remember most was the all the snow and big trees and pine needles. I really liked to jump and run in the snow and roll over a lot. The snow was cold and it was funny tasting. It tickled my tongue when I licked it. When I ran fast, sometimes I fell on my nose and it was covered with white snow. (It didn’t stay there long, for by some magic it quickly disappeared.) I guess I was a bit clumsy then. Mom and Dad laughed out loud when I did that. (I admit I did it on purpose a couple times to get the attention and laughter.)

I've always loved being in the snow. As a puppy I could play in it a lot.

I loved to play outside in the pines. I ran in circles and chased my tail.

Being a puppy in the mountains was a cheerful time. I could run in circles and chase my tail and roll over and over and make Mom and Dad laugh. It made me feel like an important puppy to have all that attention. I could put my head on the carpet and put my butt in the air and wag it back and forth to make Mom laugh. I learned to jump up the stairs real fast and then tumble down. I didn’t get hurt on the soft carpet and it was fun. Puppies have really limber legs and necks and don’t get hurt very easily.

I could chase my new sister Genevieve’s favorite shoes when she threw them on the floor and bring them to her. It was fun to fight for the shoes. I’d pull and she’d pull and I’d fall on my butt when they slipped out of my mouth. She would laugh and I’d be happy. (Dad didn’t laugh too much at this activity.)

My sister Genevieve laughed when I stole her shoe. (Dad didn't), but it was also fun!

I could run outside and run in large circles until I was so tired I would fall down exhausted and plopped down on a bed of thick pine needles. Later, I would sleep in Mom and Dad’s bathroom and curl up behind the toilet. I fit there real tight and it was quiet (a little smelly though at times.)

Curling up behind the toilet was a favorite place after I ran all day. (It was smelly though.)

I remember our first walks. Dad would put a small collar on me and a leash. I just turned around and backed out of the collar and ran. It was a fun game. Dad would chase me and he would almost never catch me. I’d let him get close and then I’d turn tail and run. Of course, all he had to do was offer me a treat and I’d be there quickly. He’d grab me and put on the collar again, but this time he made it tighter around my neck and I couldn’t pull out of it. So, I learned to let the collar stay on and he loosened it for me. Another important lesson of puppyhood!

Oh do I remember my first sight of birds. Little jumpy things, kinda cute as small animals go; so fearlessly jumping around my head when I was playing outside in the pine trees. I would lie down and try to sneak up on them, but they just ran into the air and disappeared. I was shocked. How could something just disappear. I rubbed my eyes to make sure they weren’t covered with something, and tried it again. Same thing. They would run into the air and disappear every time. One time I saw them in the distance and decided to get a real fast start on catching one. I ran as fast as I could and as soon as I got close they all just jumped up and disappeared into the air. I tried jumping into the air myself, but ended up on my nose in the pine needles. So.. I learned early what Dad finally told me was called flying, that I couldn’t do it and birds could and that’s why I’d never catch one. But the memory of doing that makes me smile and happy that I’d been so young and innocent that I didn’t know what I was seeing.

I ran after birds until I figured out they could fly away. It was fun though!

One of my fondest memories of puppyhood was when I was very small. I had just come to my new adopted home. I had to pee about every hour and it didn’t matter to me where I did it. But, Dad decided it mattered to him, so all through the night Dad would get up, put his shoes on (while I nipped at his toes) and he’d pick me up and cradle me in his big arms, say unintelligible but comfortable sounding things to me, walk down three flights of stairs in the dark and let me down gently in the snow so I could pee. I remember seeing the snow disappear as I did my thing. It was magic. There was even steam coming up from the snow. This didn’t last long because I figured out I could please Mom and Dad even more by finding my way down the stairs and out the little outside door they had built for me and out to the patio to pee all by myself. I was proud that I could do that by myself. (But I missed Dad’s caresses as he carried me down the stairs. I think he missed them too!)

Being held and cuddled made me happy as a puppy. I'm too big for Mom (or Dad) to hold me now. A shame!

My point is that being a puppy was fun, and happy and yes, carefree. You had no troubles, no responsibilities, no aches, no pains, just plain happiness. You didn’t have to worry about deadlines for blogs, or where to poop, or which trail to take in the forest, or which place to lie down to avoid Mom and Dad’s feet, or not chasing cats, or anything like that. When you get older, humans expect you to protect them, to act maturely, to pee and poop outside (and not on the grass), to stay near Mom and Dad (not run away) and obey all the rules of the RV Park. All of that takes some of the fun of life away from you… and the happiness too. I guess I would prefer to be a puppy again. Actually, I’m not sure I ever changed from being a puppy, other than from getting bigger. I still enjoy all those things, but, well, big dogs just aren’t supposed to act like puppies. Isn’t that a shame? Especially when it creates so much happiness.

The colder the better for me. I was born in the Colorado mountains. It was natural for me.

So, now, after re-living these happy memories with you, I feel twice as happy as I was before I started, and maybe have extended my life a bit longer by the memory of it all. I’m sure this doesn’t apply to humans, but it sure works for me.

Do you know a better way to be happy than to repeat your happy memories? Try it.

Arf,

Reggie