The Puppy Resolutions #1: Choose kindness.

Learning from our mistake of being a tiger parent instead of a dog parent.

Emma was our first dog and she was our guinea pig. We made a lot of mistakes. Sorry, Emma! Despite her inexperienced humans, Emma has turned out to be a fine dog.

Then we got Lucy, puppy number two. The day before the new puppy came home, I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote out my top five puppy resolutions. Like most second children, the new puppy will have an easier go of it.

#1: Choose kindness.

Everyone told me that Aussies were the smartest of dogs. They could read your mind, know what you wanted and have it done before the thought made its way into your consciousness. I had high expectations for Emma. I prioritized obedience over bonding.

We made a special potty area in the yard so clean up would be easier. We expected Emma to go on demand, exactly where and when we wanted. It went as well as you might expect. Inside her potty area, Emma would play with a stick. Emma would chew on the chicken wire fence. Emma would lie down and go to sleep. She would not go potty. We spent hours trying to get that puppy to poop on a small square of astroturf. She was miserable and confused. We were frustrated.

Now I look back and think, “Why? As long as she went outside, what did it matter where she went? Those are hours we could have spent reading, or playing with the dog or eating ice cream.”

The new puppy does not like the designated potty area either. She has picked her own special potty spot, behind the Calla lilies. As long as she doesn’t go in the kitchen or under the coffee table, she can have her pick of the yard. She is happy. We are happy. Flexibility for the win.

With Emma, we approached crate training with the fanatic rigor of new parents doing cry it out sleep training. Emma went into the crate downstairs at bedtime and there she stayed until morning. Again, you can imagine how well that went.

Emma was used to sleeping all night in a cuddly puppy pile. She suddenly found herself alone in a dark crate. She tried to let her humans know that something was seriously wrong. First she whimpered, then yipped, then escalated to panic barking: bark-BARK! bark-BARK! bark-BARK! For hours.

We proudly told the trainer that we were not reinforcing the barking by going to comfort the puppy. She was appalled, but hid it well. “She is still pretty young. Maybe you could lay next to the crate for a bit? Let her know you are there?”

The new puppy’s crate is next to my bed. At night I stick my fingers through the bars so the baby can snuggle her wet nose against my palm and lick my fingers until she falls sleeps. There is some light whimpering, but I keep my painfully cramping fingers thrust through the bars to let her know she is not alone. Eventually we’ll move her crate downstairs next to her sister’s, but there is no rush.

Training a puppy should be fun. And funny.

When I find myself stressing over Lucy’s training, I stop and think of the sign that used to hang a our local coffee shop: “Relax, you have plenty of time.”