The Story of Prince Harry

Every St. Patty’s day T-Diddy makes corned beef and cabbage.  Nevermind she’s 100% Italian, that stuff is GOOD.  I was really sad that I missed it this year, so I told her if she made it again the following weekend, I would come home.  She happily agreed.  I called Dad and told him I’d be home on Saturday.  He asked why (as if there must be some specific reason), and I told him because I had asked mom to make corned beef and cabbage.

Dad:  “NO… DON’T DO THAT!”

Me:  “Why not?”

Dad:  “She made that crap last week.  It was like mush.  She served it, and I asked where the cabbage was.  She said ‘Oh, maybe I forgot it in the refrigerator.’  She checked the fridge, then said ‘No, it’s not there.  It must be on the bottom of your plate somewhere.'”

Me:  “HA!  She did mention you didn’t really like it.”

Dad:  “Not only did she give it to me that night, but she saved that shit for leftovers all week-long.  Every night I came home she pulled it out of the refrigerator and tried to give it to me for dinner… So I said let’s just go out.  She knew what she was doing too.  She giggled every time she tried to give it to me, because she knew I’d say we’re going out.”

Anyway, T-Diddy did make the corned beef and cabbage, and she must have done a much better job the second time around.  It was worth the trip.  I also got to spend some quality time with her while I was home.  We went out to lunch at her favorite place, then went shopping for scrubs, where she was mad at me for not buying anything, because to her, a shopping trip is not successful if you don’t buy anything (they didn’t have my SIZE!… she was trying to get me to buy mismatched ones, and pants that weren’t scrub bottoms because, and I quote:  “Who CARES if they’re not scrub bottoms?  What’re the doctors going to say (now comes the whiney voice, squinted eyes and limp flailing wrists):  ‘ooooo Courtney wasn’t wearing SCRUB bottoms today…they were just REGULAR bottoms’).”

So we left the scrub store and she said “What should we do now?  I don’t want to go home yet.”  I suggested…hmmm… “Do you know of any puppy stores?”  YEP. “Let’s just go look.”

Flash forward an hour later, I’m walking out of the store called “PUPPIES” dragging a 10 week old Goldendoodle who had never been walked on a leash before, so yes, I actually was DRAGGING him.  The pet store owner smelled suckers a mile away as we were cooing over every puppy in there. When I took “Harry” (as he was later named) out of the cage to play with him, I fell in love.  I said

“Mom, do you think we could be best friends?”

She said, “Yes, he’s really cute.  I think you’d get along really well.  And you could probably pick up a lot of cute guys.”

The owner rang me up pretty damn fast… not wanting me to change my mind… BUT I did ask if I could have a trial period.  He told me it was called a “play date-”  I could take the dog home for 24 hours and see if it worked out, and then bring him back if I wanted to, for a full refund.  Perfect.  Now I could sleep on it, while sleeping with the puppy.  Awww…. so cute.

We took Prince Harry to visit dad at work.  I walked in holding him and Dad goes, “What is that?  No… no you didn’t get a dog.  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH A DOG??”  Ummmm…. LOVE it!  He says “You two really can’t be trusted shopping together.”  Yes, we know.

Prince Harry came home where Chase and Britt were visiting for the weekend as well.  Britt fell in love (obvi) and Chase, much like Dad in many ways said “Are you serious???  You can’t have a DOG!”  Harry spent the evening mostly outside with me, trying to get him to pee.  Each time after about a half hour I’d give up thinking he didn’t have to go, bring him in, and there he’d g0- right on the carpet.  Pee pee…. outside, 40 minutes-nothing…back inside, carpet– poo poo.  Back outside 30 minutes- nothing…. inside, another poo poo.  I felt bad for laughing.  It was funny.  Maybe because it wasn’t my house.

Bedtime came and whimper whimper whimper, howl howl howl.  Angel, my parents’ big black dog was intrigued… but Angel EATS little dogs, so it was a challenge to keep them away from each other.  5:30 am Harry was not shutting up.  I went downstairs to get him from the crate (which everyone said he was NOT supposed to pee in), and it was soaked with pee.  I was like OK DOG lets go outside.  So here I am, not fully prepared, or packed to be walking a dog, in my knee high leather boots, hot pink paisley pajama bottoms, and my mom’s faux fur hooded coat walking the damn puppy down the street at 5:30 am, in the cold RAIN.  Scratch that, now we’ll run.  We will run until you can run no more, because I want to go home and go to SLEEP.  The dog did not poo or pee outside.  I thought because it had already gone in the cage.  No…. as soon as we got inside…. psssss….plop….plop….pssssss….. alps;dghaoiguhads;lfjal;sdkfja;lsdkfgjafl;.  Then the big dog wanted to go out.  UGH!  FINE!!!!!  Back out, a nice little jog in my clickity click knee high boots down the street with an 80 pound dog dragging me the whole way.  I’m glad it was still pretty dark out, because I think I would have been arrested and taken to the loony bin if anyone had seen this.

I went back to sleep.  So did Harry.  So did Angel.  I woke up and still didn’t know what to do with the puppy.  I called people I know with dogs, visited another Goldendoodle owner, took Harry to my aunt and uncles who know what to do with dogs.  All the feedback I got was, “A puppy is A LOT of work.”  Not to mention, the puppy came from a pet store, had kennel cough, and had some sort of allergy.  I was back and forth all day.  I posted on FB for advice, and got a TON of great puppy training advice… THANK YOU FRIENDS!!!!  But in the end, the suggestion I took was “If you’re not 100% sure about raising a puppy, and having a dog, you probably shouldn’t keep him.”  And out of all fairness to the cute little puppy, I felt he should have a home with someone who could be there for him more.  Maybe a home that had more than one person to take care of him.

I brought Prince Harry back.  It was sad.  I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.  When I updated friends, I got a lot of “Good decision” responses.  Hmmm should I be offended by that?  I’m sure someday I will be a good puppy mommy.  I just don’t think it will be today.  Or maybe a trained dog would be easier.  A third floor walk-up is not the best situation for training.  Although, I’d have pretty good calf muscles after a few months of that.

Yes, I did feel like a horrible person buying a puppy and giving it back.  So you can save that drama for yo momma!  I already know I’m an impulsive idiot!  In close, I plan on thinking about things before doing them from now on.  (errrr…. I’ll try).

I’ll miss you, Harry.


6 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mom
    Mar 29, 2012 @ 18:03:38

    Are you coming home again this weekend? Maybe we can do North Shore.


  2. mike
    Mar 29, 2012 @ 23:51:45

    Wow, your life is full of excitement and fun adventures. You are really grownup and matured a thousand times more than I can be. I can’t believed that I still remembered our little incident long long ago. You were right. You would rather traveling around the world to find endless answers. I’m still stuck in my world with studying to find my one single final answer.

    Just find out about you today. Just want to say hi.

    Mike Pham


  3. Emily Paugh
    Mar 30, 2012 @ 00:15:29

    No, North Shore (as in Animal League, right?) is the worst! I know it was a joke but we adopted a cat there and it was sick. Whatever it had passed to one of our older kitties and it died. Stay away… I love the blog post though!


  4. Trackback: A Puppy and Unemployment | breathe in, laugh out

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