Oh, Those Puppy Blues
I had wanted my puppy with all my heart, but getting her shattered me.
I never had a dog before. Yes, my father had two dogs, my neighbors had a dog, my cousin had one, but I never lived with those pets and they were never mine.
The reasoning for me getting a puppy was simple and, in my mind back then, it made sense: I wanted a puppy so I could have an emotional support animal. A little help for whenever the days get shorter and I fall back into deep blues and decade-old habits. I wanted a puppy so I could train her, spend time with her, cuddle her and receive all the love. That’s what you do with puppies, right?
Kinda.
Before the hardcore-dog-people come at me, I did my research. I spent months reading about different breeds, studying behaviors and body language, training techniques, potty training, varieties of food, all the necessary vaccinations, socialization, etc. I put my soul into it — I thought I was prepared. I had learned it all and was ready to ace the final test: bringing her home. I had dreams about her sleeping in the bed with me and my partner and waking us up at whatever inhumane hour of the night to go potty. I imagined her running down the hall, chewing up a shoe, and trying to get away from me had I tried to get the shoe back. I couldn’t wait to calm her down whenever she needed me, teach her the house rules, make it right whenever she fails. Hell, I was even excited about destroyed furniture and vet appointments!
I wasn’t delusional. I knew what getting a puppy meant and I wanted it.
We picked a female German Shepherd puppy for a variety of reasons, but here are the main points: that’s the breed that fits our lifestyle better, they’re smart, easy to train, loyal, and energetic. We got a puppy because we needed a dog we could grow up with, especially considering my partner had been scared of dogs for most of his life. Although he had been getting better in the last year, he just wasn’t ready to live with an adult large breed yet. A puppy, however, wasn’t a problem. Matter of fact, he was just as excited as me.
We brought Noor home with us on September 8th, 2021. Until September 15th, I would have daily breakdowns.
I couldn’t stop crying, worrying, shaking. I didn’t understand it at first and just brushed the anxiety off as excitement for a new chapter. But within hours it was clear: it wasn’t excitement at all. In fact, it felt more like grief.
Noor was amazing. I was the problem.
Suddenly, a living being depended on me. Completely. If I were to fail anything could happen to her. But hadn’t this been obvious to me while planning? Of course it had. But living the reality of it was completely different.
I felt unfit for the role, ashamed, guilty. Guilt was eating me alive. I was guilty about what I was feeling, guilty about getting her, guilty for her — for not letting her have a better home. Guilty to my partner, for not being able to be left alone with her in the house. I was so anxious I wouldn’t leave her out of my sight for a second, even if she was in her crate and couldn’t possibly get hurt. I couldn’t sleep well, was constantly worrying for her, and ultimately lost my appetite for both food and life.
Each time I’d look at Noor, her small fluffy body laying somewhere next to my feet, I’d burst into tears and was inconsolable. What had I done? Why had I been so convinced I could do this? How will I ever make her happy? What was I going to do? What if I was right, what if I couldn’t possibly, in a million years, be a good dog mom?
I was so overwhelmed I was convinced I was going insane.
For the first time in a long while I thought about taking my life.
During that week I had managed to make everyone very concerned for my well being. My mother, who lives on the other side of the country, would call multiple times a day to make sure I was eating and getting at least some type of rest. My partner would do anything in his power to reassure me that it’s all okay and that Noor was in fact happy to with us. (She really was, I simply was too busy convincing myself I was a horrible person to see it). The situation was so bad that we spent three days debating whether finding her a different home would be best for all those involved.
So, I researched. I found out more about puppy blues and how common they are. I read forums and blogs, went through every possible source about it to prove to myself it would be fine — that I would be fine. That I would be fine with her.
Reading that I would eventually get better didn’t seem believable at first, if anything, it seemed completely delusional. But eventually, I did.
Noor turned four months a day ago, and she’s the happies puppy you could picture. In my personal experience, raising a pup only gets more difficult with time as you encounter new stages of developmet and new obstacles to overcome, yet it doesn’t scare me. I am confident in myself and my abilities, I know I can do this and give her the world. And I am confident in her.
Most days are easy and some are very hard, but guess what? We’re doing amazing.
Growing and learning together, discovering new places in the city, chasing pigeons, and playing with every single dog we cross paths with on walks.
And most of all, we’re happy together. My initial struggles don’t matter and don’t define our relationship: I know she couldn’t have a better home than ours.
So, for all those who might be experiencing puppy blues right now, it’s okay. And as unbelievable as it sounds, you can do it. You’ll be fine.
