A Week With Sheba (She-devil?) The Puppy

ShebaDay One was the Superbowl, so we traveled to my bf’s house to watch. She slept in the car and was the life of the party as well as the only Ravens fan (sans me) in her purple and glitter-bombed gloriousness. She passed out before the game ended thanks to the blackout. After the victorious win, she whined when she couldn’t sleep in bed with us. I lifted her up after Joe fell asleep, since I would never fall asleep with her crying. I put her back on the ground early in the morning to disguise this fact, but by 7am, she’d figured out how to jump up on the bed which is 4 times her height. She loves him, so of course it was on his side. I can forgive that, but only since he did.

She was a happy camper there and mum on the ride home. Totally chill as if she actually smoked the sheeba. In real life, while she can be mellow, she is simply bat shit crazy. Surprisingly, cars with crazy drivers calm her energy, whether she is in them or observing them. She tries to play with cars zooming by when I walk her. Uber scary, so I keep that b***h on a tight leash. Also, people scare her. Bizarre. On Monday, we slept soundly in my bed.

On Tuesday, there was a snowstorm. Sheba and I made homemade Valentines.


On Wednesday, we went for a walk in the park. It was date-night, but since I was babysitting, it was stay-in night. I decided to trim her and dye the hair on her head pink. I crossed my fingers that Mom wouldn’t be mad. S was so miserable having her hair wet for the shampoo and rinse, she moped for the rest of the night while I relaxed with my boyfriend. She still insisted on sleeping in the bed, though.

On Thursday, we ran together. She’s the type to sprint and then stop. This makes leash-running difficultly random. However, the start-stop surprise was a fun change to my paced workout.

On Friday, I went on a long run and left her home for the first time. I came home to the owner of the building (of course he had to randomly visit at my one moment of freedom) wondering what all the yapping was about. Apparently, Sheba doesn’t get tired of barking once someone leaves her; she has severe abandonment issues. I live in a no-pet building. This took some explaining and made me realize she cannot ever be left alone—at least not here. Uggh, but almost over!

On Saturday, waking to yet another blizzard aftermath, I asked my roommate to watch her so I could get a mani/pedi, run to the store, and go to the pantyman (Felix, who does my laundry). Those two hours were the most fabulous break ever. As much as I’d become attached to her and as much as I felt guilty leaving her, I really enjoyed the peace of having some space. I was reminded of  babysitting in college. I took care of a newborn two afternoons a week, and his mother was overjoyed at being able to get away for a few hours to gym and primp.

My mother’s flight from Florida (same Saturday) was postponed due to the snowstorm known as Nemo, but I was lucky enough to have an aunt and uncle willing to take Sheba for the night. I was able to go out to my own birthday party, what a thrill! I dropped her off and that was the last I had to deal with her. Until now.

This Sunday marks the beginning of another week of house lockdown with the pup while my mother skis in Vail. If you want to jet-set, I don’t recommend buying a dependent and rambunctious puppy with sharp teeth that acts like a baby. Save that for when you can fully domesticate, or when you can afford to have someone else do all of the work for you. All babies, whether human or animal, are fun in small doses. They are, in reality, 24/7 work, constantly needing, and that is something highly underestimated with the initial excitement of new life.

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