“We’re not getting a puppy,” I proclaimed to Sera after visiting my sister. This weekend we had the pleasure of meeting Maynard, my sister and brother-in-law’s new puppy. He’s a 9-week-old cuddle monster who loves to chew on the closest object to his mouth and chase me around their living room. As far as puppies go, he’s everything you would expect.

Sera occasionally hints that our dog, Beesly, needs a friend. I cannot deny that she seems to enjoy the company of other dogs, but I can’t imagine us actually being a two-dog household. As entertaining as Beesly is on her own, two might put me over the edge. The food, treats, shedding, walks and letting them inside and out seem far too overwhelming. I’ll glady visit my sister’s puppy to get all the perks and none of the pains that come with puppy-raising.

Of course people would think we are crazy to get a puppy while Sera is so close to her due date. I’m sure it has been done, but you won’t find that form of bravery in my household. No matter what kind of pregnancy cravings Sera may have, I will not cave to the puppy variety. There’s a lot less work that goes into me running to the store to get a root beer float than there is for training a puppy to stop barking at the snow.

Beesly, though generally well-behaved, still isn’t a candidate for sainthood. When we are home, she’s an expert listener and clear follower of the rules. It’s when she’s on her own that she falls victim to her K-9 temptations. For this reason, she remains zipped into her bed each day while we are at work.

Occasionally Sera and I get the feeling like our dog has matured beyond her ways and leave her out. We normally arrive back at home to find a napkin or some other form of paper torn up, and Beesly immediately runs into her bed feeling guilty before we have to say anything to her. It’s oddly comforting to know that you can instill guilt into an animal that has little comprehension of the language you speak. Beesly of course isn’t a fan of feeling guilty, and she also isn’t willing to give up her shenanigans when we leave her out. Thus, she’s become far more sneaky than we could have ever imagined.

A few days ago we tested her maturity by leaving her to roam the house while we ran an errand. She so willingly goes to her bed when we put on our shoes, that we rarely need to entice her to her crate. Because of this, I’ll occasionally forget to zip up the door. Out of sight, out of mind. We pretended this was the scenario on our excursion, and then slowly backed out of the driveway to see if she indeed was in her bed.

Nope. As soon as the garage door closed, she frolicked over to the top of the stairs and embraced her freedom with a spring in her step — at least that’s what we could see from the window. Sera and I hesitated, and continued to the store, knowing the house may be in shambles when we arrived back home.

Instead of a house in shambles, we pulled into the driveway and saw a dog asleep at the top of the stairs. With the click of a garage door opener, Beesly arose and disappeared from our view. Following our regular routine, we warmly greeted her as we walked in the door and promised to “let her out soon” — not expecting her to be in her bed, as we had just seen her sleeping at the top of the stairs.

We quickly realized however, that this sneaky pup had run off to her bed upon hearing the garage door open. Beesly was now pretending she had been locked up the entire time, that she had never frolicked throughout the living room and enjoyed a wonderful nap. Our dog greeted us with the same excitement she regularly does, eager to be fed, let outside and played with. No guilt was in those eyes, her innocence was gone. Our little con-artist believed she pulled one over on us great humans, and now she wanted to be rewarded like a good puppy who behaved all afternoon.

I was incredulous, and just days later Sera is hinting at how much fun another puppy would be. Can you imagine the kind of crime ring we’d have going on with two immoral dogs running around the house? I can only hope my sister’s dog, Maynard, learns the importance of honesty before Beesly corrupts him.

 

Rochester resident Matt Knutson is the communications and events director for United Way of Olmsted County.