Arts + Culture


Gulfshore Explorer: Puppy Love and the Many Challenges

Is this about the taming of Finn or of his new owners?

I don’t know where to begin. As I sit here, I contemplate just typing the word “poop” 1,200 times.1 Sure, I’d use different fonts and capitalize a few of them just to break things up a bit, but the word is now such a part of my lexicon that it not only supplants all others words in my vocabulary, it arrives with such repetition that it makes me think I may have stumbled into some sort of alternative universe. PoOp. POoP. poOp. Oh god. If you’ve not already guessed, we got a puppy2. With a few months of parenting under our belts, I can tell you that puppies change a person. For real. We now discuss poop multiple times a day, every day: its shape, size, color, texture, regularity, timing, location, recovery, disposal, contents, etc., as if we’re laboratory technicians working in a colonoscopy clinic. A few months back, Claudine and I were normal people living in a normal home. Things were going well: We had a landscaper, a robot vacuum cleaner and lovely high-gloss wood flooring replete with sexy fur rugs under the appropriate coffee tables3. We still have most of those things, but the rugs have been removed because the puppy seems to think the fur is a threat and attacks it like it’s a squirrel shaking a rattle. In addition, we also have shredded pieces of paper scattered everywhere. Former envelopes, Amazon boxes, toilet paper. Apparently that’s great fun. And delicious. I assure you the robot vacuum is ill-equipped. At
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