Every day on our walks around the neighborhood, Milly, the liver and white springer spaniel who lives at my house, is a rock star. People of all ages stop us to ask if they can pet her.
Actually, what a lot of them say the first time is, "May I pet your puppy?"
That's because Milly has more energy than a room full of kindergartners hyped up on Cocoa Puffs. I'm not kidding. It takes a good 15 minutes after I get home for her to relax. She runs up the hall, to the door, around the coffee table, into the dining room and back down the hall.
She jumps on me. She jumps on the bed. She jumps on anyone who happens to be in the house with me. She literally shakes with excitement when I tell her she must sit and be still so I can put the leash on her for our daily walks. Sometimes it takes more than one attempt to get it on her.
And she's loves people. Pet her once and she's going to want you to pet her every time she sees you.
But she's not a puppy. Not anymore. In fact, later this week, she's turns 7, which is doggy years makes her middle aged.
This isn’t a complaint. I knew what I was getting when I got a second springer spaniel. My first, Glory, was the same bundle of energy when she was 7, too. And as well trained as Milly is, she goes crazy around people. They are called springers for a reason.
In all honesty, it’s nice having¬ someone who’s excited to see me every afternoon.
Still, she can destructive. In fact, for the first few years, Milly was the most destructive creature on the face of the earth. Not long after I got her, she chewed on my tennis shoes, a loafer, a coaster, a page of coupons I got in the mail from Kroger, two different remote controls, my phone charging cable, a baseball cap, the channel-lineup card from my new cable provider, a ballpoint pen and a (full!) bottle of water.
My friends complain I didn’t properly puppy proofed the house. But that’s not true. She’s just gotten more resourceful. And, for a while, I thought she was getting better about chewing. After all, it had been many months before she had gotten a hold of something she shouldn’t have.
A few weeks ago, I did laundry. As I was folding socks, the age-old problem occurred: I was missing a sock. So I looked in the washing machine. Not there. I looked in the dryer. Not there, either. It also wasn’t in the closet where the clothes hamper had been. I gave up looking for it.
An hour later, I found it. Milly was chewing on it under the coffee table.
I’m seriously considering hiring her out to the NSA as a paper shredder. She works cheap and, believe me, she’s more effective than the most expensive shredding machine you can buy. Plus, she’d have the benefit of serving her country.
But at least she's stopped chewing on my things and spends her time shredding her own toys. I no longer buy her any of those plush, stuffed toys. It takes her less than 48 hours to de-plush and de-stuff them.
I hope she has a happy birthday. I’m considering getting her a Starbucks Puppuccino. She can chew on that all she wants.
