My heart is growing three sizes

As previously mentioned, I am not a dog person. I really do think this is due to lack of exposure growing up coupled with a desire for my world to be clean and orderly.

We had one dog in my childhood for less than a year and, in retrospect, treated it pretty poorly. He lived in the backyard and we only interacted with him twice a day when we brought him food . Not realizing our lack of affection was starving him for attention,  we couldn't understand why he attacked us every time we went into the backyard and thus, in our minds, made us prisoners in our own home.

We got rid of the dog, and it never once occurred to me to get another.  In fact, not liking dogs became one of those indisputable facts about me like "I'm allergic to penicillin" or "I love Thai food."  No apologies necessary.

This would not have been such a big deal if I hadn't married a dog person. Robert turns into a puddle every time he sees a dog and lets them lick his face to the point of making out. I love his kind heart, but throw up in my mouth a little bit every time he lets a dog assault him in this way.

Look away if you have an easy gag reflex. Ugh. 

Not only do I have a dog-loving husband, I also have an eight-year-old boy. Aidan loves dogs and has wanted one since he was like three. Since we always lived in apartments it was easy to say no. It would be cruel to have a dog locked up in a 900 sq. ft apartment all day, no?

Well now I am outnumbered 2 to 1 and living in a large house on a tree-lined street. I've run out of excuses. We got Stan last December and, even I have to admit, he is the cutest puppy in the world.

Stan is the heartthrob on the right

Even I loved him immediately

Having been won over by cuteness, I set about the task of making room in my home and my heart. I'm just going to tell you straight up, some days are hard. It has been freezing cold since December, which means I've been trekking out in the snow against my will, 5-6 times a day to take Stan out to pee. Which he rarely does. His preferred toilet is my house.

Stan has ripped multiple pairs of my tights, smashed a lamp, and torn up my couch. He scares the neighborhood children with his rambunctiousness. Today I came home to a horrific smell because someone threw his poop in the trash can instead of down the toilet.

See, I'm not making this stuff up. 

That deflated spot on the couch used to be mine

Yet, I also come home to this:

Stan makes Aidan and Robert SO HAPPY. I can see how talking Stan out every day is teaching Aidan responsibility. Robert shines when Stan learns a new trick or gives a doggy smile. Even I appreciate Stan's protective nature. One night, Robert was gone, and Stan growled at the slightest noise outside our house. I felt safe, like "my dog will end you if you cross my threshold uninvited" safe. And in time, when Stan finally learns to see poop outside, maybe my house will smell normal again.

Day by day, this dog is becoming a part of my life. I may never become a dog person and I will NEVER let them lick my face (shudder), but I love what Stan has added to our family. One thing, however, is certain. Next time we get a dog, he will be potty trained.