“Slowly, Anna put up a hand to his muzzle and began to scratch that spot behind the ear where large dogs keep their souls.” ― Eva Ibbotson, A Countess Below Stairs

 You pray for rain, you gotta deal with the mud too. That’s a part of it.Denzel Washington

Tasha - Sleeping


I have a seven month old Great Pyrenees puppy.  She weighs seventy-seven pounds and is teething.  She is right now approx. 36” from nose to tail and is about 24” tall.  Her tail is almost as long as her body.  She will get bigger.  She has beautiful eyes and oh so soft hair.  Imagine putting your hands down into freshly fallen powder snow and you have an idea of what her coat is like.  Someone once told me that Great Pyrs smell like sunshine.  Pretty close to the truth.   Having said all of that, including the sweetness, the bond, and the heart of a Great Pyr it must also be noted that the destruction that a GP puppy can cause is huge!

The GP puppy is inventive when trying to find something to chew on.  Forget the bones, the size of grown cow legs, toys (more than my human children had at that age of development), and let’s talk about chair legs, couch legs, dish cloths, bath towels, cookie cutters (like the gingerbread man and the Christmas angel), clean t-shirts, bed pillows and let’s not forget the door draft stopper dog for the front door.  There was also fly swatters, night gowns, and kitchen rugs, bottles of hand lotions, shoes, jeans, and work boots.  Before you jump to the conclusion that I am a terrible house keeper, let me hasten to say, “Not so my friend! Not So.”

I hide my shoes on top of my cedar chest in the bedroom.  My hubby puts his things up on shelves and dirty clothes are in lidded hampers.  Still Tasha finds a way.  She chews on the handles of drawers unto they open and she can get wash clothes.  Towels are found on the top shelves in the bathroom.  I monitor where she is at in the house constantly.  She will be lying beside me on the floor as I try to write and I look back at the key board, turn back around and she has crept away like fog on the river.  So, I go and search for her and exchange what she has in her mouth for an acceptable chew toy.  As I replace her chew with another I hold the damaged whatever in front of her and tell her sternly “Mine, mine!”  She hangs her head and looks up at me so sorrowfully and is very sorry for the misdeed.

For the rest of the day she remembers not to chew on “that” particular item but there are so many more she finds.  I run after her more than I can remember running after my human children.  I have read that puppies teeth until they are eight months old.  I checked her mouth and it looks like a little over half her teeth are in and I can see pressure points for the rest.  My poor house doesn’t think it will survive but I assure it that it will.  Soon this too shall pass and we’ll be on to the next adventure.

About eve culley

Children's Author, micro-farmer, wife, mother, and grandmother
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