Eric and I love our puppies, but they require tons of attention.
When they are out and about, you can’t turn your back for a second — if you do, you’ll find a huge chunk of carpet missing/your phone charger turned into a toy/a lot of pee spots and they’ll be looking at you, one with his collar off, the other with the dog food bowl upside down on his head, and you feel like you’re interrupting the greatest frat party ever — so being with them requires all of your focus.
They are adorable, but exhausting, especially to handle alone.
We crate them an appropriate amount, but a crate is not a full-time solution, and we no longer can use our fancy baby gate in the entryway since Chuck started, um, eating the walls one day. (Not like nibbling at a corner…just…somehow chewing a hole into the flat part of the wall. I know…I don’t get it either.)
And when one of us is working crazy amounts of overtime, the other one is left alone with the puppies a lot more than she deems fair.
The solution? Mr. Overtime is paying for a pet-sitter.
Her name is Rachel. She comes a few nights a week. She doesn’t charge too much — just mani/pedi/lunch money — but I think Eric only greed to hire her because he thinks she’s hot.