Kids in Training

When I first got my dogs, everyone joked that they were ‘kids in training’.  And they weren’t kidding. 

Now that my friends all have kids and I have spent nearly four years with my boys, I can truly say having a dog is like having a furry kid with fleas (well, my dogs have never actually had fleas. But you know what I mean).

1.  Potty Training

While a friend of mine embarks on the world of potty training with her daughter in which her daughter gets a treat for peeing on the toilet, I am reminded of the days I trained Brooklyn to go outside.

Just like a kid, he got a reward for doing his business outside.  And, just like a kid, he sometimes (who am I kidding?  Still does sometimes) had accidents in the house. 

Unlike a kid, however, Brooklyn will eat his own poop to hide his accident from me so he doesn’t get into trouble.

2.  Dirty Diapers

Okay, I don’t have to diaper my dogs.  But I do have to pick up their poop three times a day.  And just like when I see parents who have no problem with their own babies disgusting diaper, I don’t really get too grossed out picking up my dog’s mess.  Unless they have gotten into something truly terrible.  Like roach traps or a bag of mini eggs.  Then it’s gag city.

3.  Toy stores are fun!

You know how a kid can see a toy or candy store from a mile away and gravitate towards it? 

Well, same goes for my dogs and the pet store.  No matter which city we are in (and remember we have traveled between 3 for the past 4 years), they have an uncanny memory (urm, I guess it's their sense of smell?) for knowing where each pet store is on each different walk in each different city.  Mr. Mop will start to pull at his leash about 100 metres away with the hopes we will go inside and sniff treats.  And when the pet store is closed, he sadly looks through the window and paws at the door hopefully.

4.  Kids have temper tantrums.

Well, so do dogs.  And just like kids, it often happens when they are over-tired or over-excited.  For example, after a long walk to a Brooklyn off-leash park and then an hour of dog play, Mr. Mop threw what I can only describe as a doggy temper tantrum on the Promenade.  He was jumping, screaming, barking, growling.  And when I tried to control him and get him to calm down, he went absolutely crazy.  The dog was SCREAMING.  Have you ever heard a dog scream?  People were staring.  It was embarrassing.

5.  Reverse Psyhcology works

When I was a kid and didn’t want to leave somewhere fun, my mum would start to walk away and threaten to leave me there.  This always worked and I always went racing after her.  Now I know that a parent would never actually leave a child, but when you are 5 you don’t know this.

If we are at the off-leash park and Brooklyn won’t come back to me to get his leash on, I simply say ‘Bye Bye Brooklyn Bye Bye’, turn and walk away and the little jerk comes speeding towards me.  I still can’t tell if this dog is stupid or smart – but he certainly hasn’t figured out this trick in four years.

6.  Kids don’t like their car seats.

I am sure this is not true of all kids, but my niece hated being in her car seat.  She would literally scream from one destination to the other until she was two.

Mr. Mop is the exact same.  He has a seat-belt, a doggie car seat and a crate.  All of which have been huge issues for him.  When in his seatbelt, he will struggle until he can free himself.  In some cases, he has thrown himself over the seat and is left hanging.

He broke his car seat by jumping out of it so fast and hard, he broke the strap.  Ironically, he loves to sit in the car seat if he is not buckled in.  Or if Brooklyn is in it.

As for the crate.  Well, I will put him that thing with a chew stick and he will still whine and claw at the gate.  After a while, I can’t handle the noise so I open the door.

At which point he will jump in the front seat, look out the window and then jump back to his crate to eat his toy. 

I guess it’s the inability to move that really irks him. 

7. Kids are taught how to be polite and behave.

Clearly, we train dogs.  Mine know how to sit, stay, come and give high fives. Not that they do them well, or when I ask them to.  Just like kids, dogs have a mind of their own.  Brooklyn will only come to me if I have treats.  Mop won’t stay.  He will inch himself closer to me.

As for polite. Hmmm, I don’t know if my dogs have the best manners.  Things at the park seem to go well until they start to hump another dog.  

8.  Kids love the affection of their parents/get grossed out when their parents kiss.

Our dogs love both of us.  Mr. Mop especially loves the Engineer.  Well, he loves me too.  But if the Engineer and I sit next to each other on the couch, Mop will look at us, then start to make his weird grunting noises eventually jumping on the couch and making a spot for himself between us.  So he can have both of us petting him.  Well, I suspect it’s  a possessive thing really. He also hates it when we dance.  He jumps and nips at us as the Engineer tries to spin me.

Brooklyn loves to sit on the Engineer whenever possible.

 

9.  Kids love their siblings.  And hate them at the same time.

Mr. Mop & Brooklyn may not be litter mates, but they are brothers in so many ways.  For the most part they get along very well.  Sometimes, a little too well.  Mr. Mop likes to groom Brooklyn and will spend hours licking his face and ears.  When I say their names, the two break apart like guilty teenagers.  

They also fight.  Mop is the boss and will always take toys away from Brooklyn. Unless it is Brooklyn’s chick or dragon.  He loves those toys and when Mop takes them away, he will defend himself until he gets them back.

And like brothers, they stick up for each other.  Just the other day we went to the park and a clumsy German Shepard accidentally stepped on Mop.  Mop barked at him but was fine and walked away.  Brooklyn saw it and went charging at the massive dog – barking away.  ‘Don’t you step on my brother!’.  It was hilarious.

And I am that crazy parent who dresses them up matchy-matchy and in costumes on holidays ;)

 

10.  Kids can be naughty and michevious

My dogs are ridiculous.  Like children, I have to make sure that there is nothing around that they can get into.  I know for  a fact everytime I leave the house, Mr. Mop jumps up on the table and simply sits there.  He knows he shouldn’t be on the table so we waits untl I am gone.  

And don’t even get me started on the things they get into.  Correction: Mr. Mop gets into.  This year alone he managed to open my mini-suitcase, get out a packaged Terry’s Chocolate Orange that was still in my stocking and eat the thing whole.  We had to go to the vet to make him throw it up.  He has also gotten into my gym bag to eat through a Ziploc bag of protein bars.  He’s climbed on my mum’s suitcase to reach the fourth shelf of my bookshelf, knock books away and get the mini-eggs hidden behind them.  

Brooklyn is usually around for the ride.  The vet made him throw up as well but nothing chocolately came up. I can just see him trying his best to get into the treasure but Mop taking it all for himself. 

They also sneak into my closet for access to the laundry basket for dirty underwear.  If a coffee is left in the car they will drink it.  Today Brooklyn managed to get a Tim Horton’s cup on his head. 

Once on a walk, Mr. Mop was so hyper he stole my toque out of my hand and ran around the forest with it. 

I could keep going, but I won’t.  

Mr. Mop ate the Engineer's Advent calendar that was on the kitchen counter

Mr. Mop went nuts in the dirt

Not to mention the fact we are responsible for their well-being, their food, their exercise, their health, their teeth . . .  the list keeps going on.

And, like children, dogs provide us with unconditional love and so many life lessons.  Like always thinking the best in people, being positive and the fun that is chasing squirrels.  And to always find joy.

So yes, dogs are kids in training.  Or furry kids with fleas.

What's in a Name?

Before I got married (or engaged even), I was always surprised at the ease so many girls have about changing their names.  Mere hours after saying ‘I Do’, their Facebook profile’s would suddenly change names to the point where I had no idea who my ‘friends’ were.  Oh social media, what would we do without you?

To be perfectly honest, it always sort of bugged me.  I mean, at least have your profile with both names just so I can recognise who you used to be.

It also bugged me for another reason:  how was it so easy to suddenly have a brand new name and give up on the one that’s been with your for at least 25 years?

One Facebook friend had staunchly refused to change her name.  Imagine my surprise when the day after her wedding, her profile name changed immediately and her maiden name was no where to be seen.

Leading up to my own marriage, I was always convinced that I would keep my maiden name with the compromise of hyphenating my husband’s name.  My husband (in my view) hasn’t been completely supportive of my decision.  In fact, I wanted him to take my name.  Or at least give our combined name to our children.

Which to this day he is still very much against.

The thing is, my maiden name is very unique.  There are only about 70 Groundwater’s in all of Canada.  Next, I am the last one in our family’s line with this name.  I have no brother’s to carry on the name and my dad only had sisters.  Groundwater comes from my Great-Grandfather who immigrated from the Orkney Islands in Scotland.  Imagine my delight when I lived in Scotland and discovered how common my name was!

 This last name has always gotten lots of questions and lots of confusion. I get asked frequently if I am First Nations.  My name has been changed to Groundhouse, Groundhog, Underwater – you name it, I’ve been called it.  And don’t get me started on the spelling.  JUST LIKE IT SOUNDS!!  It’s so automatic for me to say “Ground you walk on, Water you drink – Groundwater’ in the hopes I don’t have to spell it ten times.

My husband’s last name is Law.  Which is a lovely last name.  Unlike myself, his last name doesn’t have a lot of history with it.  In fact, Law is not really his family’s last name.  When his dad immigrated to Canada, their name got lost in translation. 

But just like me, he is fiercely proud of his last name.  And expects me to change my name.  He doesn’t agree with the hyphen and doesn’t want our kids to have the long last name.  He feels that if we have a daughter and she  gets married some day then she will have a really really long name.  Fair enough.  But I say that’s her decision.  Just like he wants his kids to carry on his name, so do I.  Just like he wants to keep his last name that he has had for thirty years, so do I.

Doesn’t he know that white people like long last names?  (urm, please refer to Stuff White People Like)

Okay, now speed up to the week before we got married. 

It suddenly occurred to me to ask my dad how he felt about me changing my name.  Yup, he thought I was being weird.  My dad has no feelings about me keeping my name or passing it on to his grandchildren. Hmmmmm.  Did you know in Egyptian culture (and another one that I forget) the girl keeps her maiden name?  It’s thought disrespectful to their  fathers to change their name. 

But apparently my dad doesn’t care.

In the days leading up to our wedding, my friends were scattered around Italy doing the tourist thing.  In the exchange of text messages, I got messages that said things like this:  “The Carlyle’s & Lappin’s are in Rome, joining the St. Amour’s in Florence”.

And it hit me.

These couples were a team.  Their new families they were creating were all one team under one name.  By me taking my husband’s name was not about me losing my own name – it’s about him and me becoming our own family.

And that’s when I realised maybe I could lose the Groundwater and become a Law.

Nah, I opted to go Groundwater Law.

Let’s speed up another six or seven months post wedding. 

Unlike calling the Engineer my boyfriend or even my fiancé, I get a happy little thrill every time I refer to him as my husband.  When he introduces me as his wife, I get a little skip in my tummy.  I’m a wife! 

I’ve tried the Groundwater Law thing since June 29^th.  The problem is I often forget the Law.  Or forget what name I’ve used when booking appointments.  Am I an “L” or a “G” on the alphabetical list?  And now people ask if I am an environmental lawyer.  Really people?

And then it happened.  Just the other day I dropped Groundwater all together.  I called someone and said, “Hi, this is Sarah Law”.  And just like calling the Engineer my husband or him calling me his wife, I got a secret thrill. 

Not to mention it’s SO EASY to be a Law.  No one gets confused with the spelling.  No one asks me to repeat it twice.  And talk about filling out forms.  My name finally fits in the box!! 

I think I’ve made the decision to change my name.  I think I’ll still need to throw the Groundwater around a bit.  And I would still like our kids to have the name (but let’s face it:  women are much better at compromising than men.) But life is so easy with a short last name.

And we’re a team now.

But to the end of time, I will always remain Sarah Groundwater Law on Facebook.  I’m not ready for that change just yet!