It’s two weeks since I drove for an hour up the M1 to pick up our new puppy.
And as I reflect over the past fortnight, it’s starting to feel more and more like a trip down memory lane.
Now my girls have turned 10 and 11, it’s sadly not often I give much thought to the years when they were babies.
What seemed at the time like months and months of worrying and stressing about whether I was getting it ‘right’, especially with my firstborn, now feels like a fleeting moment in the dim and distant past of our family life.
But that’s all changed now Monty, our nine-week-old Coton de Tulear puppy has bounded onto the scene.
Certainly, Monty could (dare I say it) rival pretty much any baby in the cuteness stakes.
We can’t take him anywhere without people peering into his crate and cooing over him, or asking politely if they can ruffle his hair. Cue Memory number 1.
Then there are the all too familiar questions. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’ ‘How old is he?’ and ‘Oh how lovely, what’s his name?’
At home, Monty has certainly had his moments over the past two weeks.
He loves his food and is at his crankiest when he’s tired or waiting to be fed. Cue memory number 2.
First thing in the morning, he’s wide awake at the crack of dawn and ready to PLAY. While come the evening, he’s happy to snuggle up and sleep in your arms like, well like a baby.
Then, today was the day I had been dreading. the day I had to take Monty to the vets for his vaccination. To tell you the truth, I was more nervous than when I went for my own flu jab earlier this week.
Sitting in the waiting room, I found myself prattling inanely to reassure him, in the same way I used to talk almost constantly to the girls, long before they were old enough to answer back. Cue memory number 3. (As then, I was doing my best not to make things worse by speaking for no apparent reason in an oh-so-twee ‘baby voice’).
As the vet prepared the needle, I couldn’t shake off the memory of taking Big Girl to be vaccinated as a very small baby (I can clearly remember her looking surprised after the first injection into her left thigh – and howling the place down after the swift jab into her right). Cue memory number 5.
Thankfully, Monty was much less bothered and barely even registered the needle after being given a tasty treat by the vet to distract him (I said he liked his food).
By the time we got back home, all the excitement seemed to have worn him out and he dozed off for his nap without so much as a peep, leaving me with a spare hour to wash the breakfast things, make the beds, put the washing out, catch up with my emails and start some work… Cue memory number 5.
So where do we go from here? Well, if Monty’s growing tendency to show a bit of attitude are anything to go by, I am pretty sure where we are heading.
He doesn’t like being told he isn’t allowed to do something (like chew my slippers. When I’m wearing them).
He sees his toys as his toys, and he’s not so good at sharing.
And we’ve still a way to go on the toilet training front.
I think we could be heading for the toddler years already…