The expectations vs. realities of dog ownership

In the weeks leading up to Mango’s arrival, in between thinking about vaccinations and toilet training and the contents of the videos on Kikopup’s puppy playlist, I spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about our life together.

She’d be an office dog - at ease on the train ride in, everyone’s pal at work, ready to settle in for a nap at my feet. We’d spend glorious weekends away together camping, swimming in the cool clear waters of wide rivers, stopping for a burger and a beer at the pub on the way home. She’d be a go-everywhere-do-everything dog. My best mate. My ride or die.

*Boyyyyyy* was I in for a surprise.

Mango is not, and probably never will be an office dog. I’m yet to see her at ease anywhere besides our home. She finds it hard to make pals because she’s so busy oscillating between fear and over-the-top giddies around new people. Camping? Maybe. If we found a private property in the middle of nowhere, far from any other dogs or people. And even then only maybe. As for swimming she seems okay being ankle-deep in still water, but the movement of ocean waves gets her on edge. We are a long way off attempting to take her to hang out at the pub with us.

Not once during my daydreams did I wonder if she’d actually want to do any of that stuff. And it certainly didn’t occur to me that she might find run-of-the-mill activities like having visitors over or going to the park overwhelming.

But reality very rarely (if ever?) matches up with our expectations, does it? They say that you might not get the dog you want, but you’ll get the dog you need. I’m certain that’s true for us, though don’t ask me why just yet; I won’t understand any of this until it's in hindsight.

You know what else I didn’t expect? That I would ever love another being as much as I love her. I mean LOOGADHER!