My husband and I adopted a golden retriever puppy six days ago. He’ll turn 10 weeks old on Tuesday. So far, it’s been a miserable experience for me. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I couldn’t have been less prepared. I’ve had dogs before, but never a puppy. Whenever I’ve brought home a pet, we’ve always had an instant bond, but I’m having the hardest time bonding with the new puppy. Of course, he’s adorable, but he’s exhausting.
Right now, the dog has to be watched 24/7. If you let him out of your sight for even a second, he’ll chew on or pee/poop on something. He doesn’t have free access to the whole house, just the home office or the kitchen (with one of us watching him). We got him a pen for the backyard, but he can’t be left there because he screams his head off. He has a crate and he does ok with it, but he cries when we put him in there, and we’re forced to tiptoe around and whisper because if we’re too loud, he’ll keep crying.
He’s had two accidents a day in the house. We work from home and take him out every 30 minutes, as well as when he rings a bell on our back door (which he’s pretty good at). However, it doesn’t matter how much he goes out, he comes inside and goes in the house.
Every day, I’ve broken down sobbing because of how unhappy I am. It feels like there’s this heavy sadness that only goes away when I’m not home and not thinking about him. I used to not care much for errands, preferring to be home. Now, I can’t wait to get out of the house and away from him, but I still can’t relax because I’m worried about what he’s up to.
I loved our life before we adopted him. It was my husband and I and our cat, our home was clean, everything felt calm and relaxing. Now, our house reeks of dog, sounds like a zoo, and the cat and I are miserable. The worst part is that my husband is SO happy. He was the one who wanted the dog, and I agreed because it was so important to him. He does the majority of the work with the dog, so I feel even more guilty. But it’s like I’m a stranger in my own home. If he’s not destroying the house, he’s biting my toes, barking, or just being a general terror.
Today, my husband and I came home early from church to check on him. When we opened the door, our entire house REEKED of poop. Inside his crate, he managed to get poop on everything. Himself, his toys, the floor outside, everything. I couldn’t take it, and I got in the car and left. I’m typing this post from a CVS parking lot because the thought of going home is so unappealing.
I hate myself for feeling this way toward a literal baby. I know he’s not trying to make us miserable, and I want to give him a good life. My family is very much “pets are for life,” so the thought of bringing him back, however appealing, isn’t really an option. I couldn’t do that to my husband either. I’m just so tired of feeling this way, and it hasn’t even been a week. I’ve seen so many posts saying “by a year, my dog was great!” But the thought of feeling like this for a year makes me sick.
Has anyone experienced puppy blues like this?
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