Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I love the relaxing atmosphere: open windows, coffee and an assortment of breakfast items that are leisurely made or eaten until around noon, football games, loose yoga clothes, and once evening hits, the ambiance of candles and oil burners. Murphy gets a break from the treadmill and spends his time sleeping or basking in the sun or watching me weave in and out of rooms, attempting to accomplish one task or another.
He hasn't always been so quiet. As a puppy, he had a list of bad habits: raiding the litter box for "cat truffles," stealing the can of wet cat food, stealing my socks, chewing holes into various undergarments, trying to lick any breakfast item on the kitchen table, tearing up any and all paperwork on the floor, escaping from the house and eating all pieces of animal crap that's on our neighbor's lawn...and so on, and so forth. The gross stuff was endless, and I have no doubt that they were the main reason Murphy was returned to the breeder. No one wants to put up with a problem puppy. No one can relax with a problem puppy unless, of course, you're me.
I am a strict dog owner. I owe a lot of my A-type personality to my no-nonsense upbringing, and although I've mellowed over the years, when it comes to the dog, I like the idea of keeping a very short leash. Since the first few months I brought him home, Murphy has followed the same routine: potty, treadmill, food, sleep. With age comes more freedom, so there are times, like today, when he's allowed to skip his exercise and head straight to breakfast. Other Sundays I've brought him to the dog park, or to a friend's house, or let him lounge beneath my chair at the local Starbucks.
We relax. Me with my Pumpkin Spice latte, and Murphy with his bowl of water, because the strict routine is enforced with intense training. Murphy knows his basic obedience commands (as well as others, like "Go potty" and "bedtime") because I've drilled them into his somewhat non-existent brain. It wasn't exactly the easiest process; Murphy is extremely impulsive. His attention span only lasts a few seconds, and then he's off doing whatever he'd like to do, instead of everything I want him to do. My life as a dog owner has, at times, been frustrating and stressful and overwhelming. But Murphy is food motivated. Over time, the repetitive nature of "sit" and "stay" have evolved primarily from slipped pieces of cheese, and become permanently ingrained in his head. We've curbed the less desirable behaviors, though they haven't been entirely eliminated. It's been three years and Murphy still eats shit. He still chews on paperwork, and he steals the cat food whenever the opportunity arises.
But he does it less.
He's less prone to push his way out of the house. He doesn't chase the cats as much anymore. Only some of my clothes have holes, and I can guilt trip him out of the kitchen, instead of physically having to remove him. Sometimes, he'll watch out the window, instead of constantly bark. Mostly, he just sleeps.
And while he's sleeping, I drink the last of my Starbucks coffee. I write my blog and listen to the game and soon, I'll light some candles. Dinner will come and Murphy may or may not go on the treadmill. He'll go out and then go to bed and once again, I'll think about how far he's come since he first came home.
It's become routine.
