When is the right time to get a puppy?
That is a question I have asked myself a lot this year, both in the run-up to and after adopting Penny, a now-seven-month-old Labrador-mix that joined our family at the end of March.
Is it during a regional war or in the first trimester of pregnancy? No, almost definitely not. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
That said, Penny has been a crash course in canine parenthood, in a way that our older dog Frida was not.
I adopted Frida in September 2020. She had been a street dog in Ajman for an unknown amount of time and was found on a construction site, being fed by builders. Malnourished and with a ripped ear, she had all the trappings of a dog with trauma, but has been exactly the opposite. She is gentle and a bit shy, but loves people, is generally very quiet (apart from when the gardener comes by) and sleeps an easy 20 hours a day.
Our new arrival has made me realise Frida's behaviour may be more aligned with cats than that of her fellow canine.
Penny, however, is pure pup. She approaches every scenario with full enthusiasm, whether that is dinner time, a stroll around the block or a run-in with a disgruntled cat. She has also been a good lesson in discipline, not just for her – but yes, she does need to know how to sit, wait and not forage in bushes for dead rats – but also for us.
So far, it has been as wonderful as it has been exhausting. Somewhere between the 2am toilet trips, 5am wake-up calls and the frantic attempts to stop her eating things she absolutely should not eat, I have learnt a few things.
1. Toilet training will take over your life
Before the puppy, I thought in hours. I would say things like “I'll leave at 7.30” or “Let's go out for lunch”.
Now, everything is measured by when she last relieved herself.
Has she just been outside? Has she had water? Has she eaten? Has she played? Has she woken up? Has she looked at me in a way that suggests she might need to go out?
There was a period when we were taking her outside roughly every 30 minutes (and a low point with a UTI when we were into 15-minute blocks). At one point, it seemed entirely possible that I would spend the rest of my life attaching her to a lead, walking her outside, waiting for her to do her business and responding with the enthusiasm of someone who has just witnessed a major scientific breakthrough.
If you’re in the thick of the early hourly toilet breaks, I promise, progress is around the corner. For Penny, it clicked overnight, but the advice is right – accidents are not something you can grumble about or discipline; you need to watch them like a hawk and they will just get it one day.
That said, if you don’t have the time to commit to a few months of toilet training (and yes, I do mean months), a new puppy is not for you.
2. Progress is not linear
One day, everything is going brilliantly. She goes outside, she has perfect recall, she walks nicely on her lead, and she doesn’t chew on anything off-limits. She seems to understand what is expected of her and you briefly allow yourself to believe that you have cracked it.
Then the next day she throws it all out of the window. Pees in the living room, annoys Frida (annoys us!), chases after every human and animal she sees, and recall – what is recall?
It is easy to think you have gone backwards. But puppies, I have discovered, are not interested in your definition of progress. They are learning, forgetting and learning again, as well as testing their boundaries.
I try to celebrate the small victories and accept that there will be setbacks.
3. You cannot control everything
I like a plan. I like knowing what is happening and when. I like to think that if I prepare properly, I can avoid most problems.
A puppy is an excellent way to dismantle this belief.
You can establish a routine and she can decide she would rather sleep for two hours. Or, to the contrary, her usual naptime is now playtime.
You can take her outside and she can refuse to pee, only to come back inside and immediately do it on the floor.
You can buy toys specifically designed for puppies and she will prefer a cardboard box.
There is no perfect system. There is only repetition, patience and the occasional deep breath.
4. The difficult bits and the lovely bits are inseparable
The same puppy who wakes you up at the crack of dawn is the one who comes running towards you as though she has not seen you for years when you return home.
The same dog who has tested every boundary is the one who places a toy on your lap while you’re working, and looks up at you with big puppy-dog eyes.
The same tiny creature who has completely disrupted your routine can somehow become part of it with astonishing speed.
I still have moments when I wonder what we were thinking, but they don’t last too long.
We’re still very much in the thick of training – walking nicely and focusing are top of the list! – but we also have some training to do ourselves. To be patient, to be flexible, to get outside and celebrate tiny achievements. I think I have accepted that life can become considerably more chaotic while also becoming considerably happier.
The question of whether this was the right time to get a puppy, then, is perhaps not one I can answer. There probably isn't a right time. There is only a time when you decide that the disruption is worth it.
The fact that, come January, we’ll be doing this all over again with a tiny human is something I am still getting my head around. I suspect that, come that arrival, the puppy training will feel like a distant – and very straightforward – memory.
