Still a puppy...

I have to keep that thought in my head... Savannah is still a puppy. She's the size of a full-grown dog right now, but she's still growing, she will indeed get bigger, but right this very minute as I type, Savannah is still a puppy.

The past two days have not been Savannah's most well-behaved days on this planet, and I can only hope that these two days were her worst.  For some unknown puppy reason, Savannah thinks the TV room is a playground and everything in that room is up for grabs. Such as Sweet Pea's pillows and blankets, the sofa pillows, the sofa cushions, afghans, small tables and wicker items. Since yesterday morning, every one of those things has either been pulled down, chewed on, knocked over, or taken hostage by this crazy puppy.

My husband said he would take Savannah to the dog park so she could work off that excess energy, but my belief now is that the excess energy that thrives in that dog park has been brought into our house and now Savannah thinks she can run and jump and play right here as she does in the park. Give me a blessed puppy break. And the dog park has been off-limits the last few days anyway because of this rainy drippy cold weather. Give me a blessed weather break as well.

What happened to that quiet little puppy who sat on the sofa with her head in my lap as I brushed her? And that serene princess of a puppy who could lay down in her bed and watch the world go by as she cuddled up with her blue monkey? (We have just one blue monkey left, by the way. All the others have been torn to shreds by the puppy-monster who has replaced Savannah.)

Yesterday afternoon, Savannah pulled every last pillow and cushion off the sofa and the chairs in the TV room. When I went in there, she was standing in the middle of all of them and just smiling as if she had just discovered a hidden stash of rawhide chew-bones.  I told her No! No! No! as I picked up all those pillows and cushions, and she sat there and watched me and seemed to understand.

This morning while I was busy in the kitchen, Savannah was in the TV room and when I went in there (because it was just too quiet) there she was again, with all the pillows, afghans, cushions, everything she could grab... it was all in the center of the room like Mount Everest. I stood there with my hands on my hips and I didn't say a word. Savannah looked at me and then calmly got up on the cushion-less sofa and laid down and let out the longest and loudest sigh, and then she looked towards the back of the sofa so she wouldn't have to see the wrath-of-Momma look that I was giving her.

Once again, I picked up every blessed thing, saying No! No! No! with each item, and taking Sweet Pea's pillows and blankets and putting them right in front of Savannah's face and saying NO! DEFINITELY NO! before putting them back in their places.

When I was all done re-assembling that room, I got hold of Savannah's collar and got her out of the TV room and then I put the wicker magazine table on the threshold between the TV room and the breakfast room. For some reason, when that slight barrier is up between the two rooms, Savannah won't touch it or go past it, but Sweet Pea can easily slip in and out at will.

As I type, Savannah is sleeping quietly in her bed. It's been a drippy rainy cold day so far, and I've walked her twice so she's had exercise today, and she'll be going out at least two more times before the day is over.

For the life of me, I cannot understand this puppy at times. Savannah will walk around the dining room and into the living room and she will look at everything as if she's in Disneyland... but she will not make a tiny move to touch anything in those rooms. Ditto for the kitchen and breakfast rooms. But the TV room... nothing in there is off limits in her puppy mind and she thinks that pillows and cat-beds are to be captured and piled up bonfire-style in the middle of the room.

Puppy. She is still a puppy. Still a puppy. I'm wondering now if I will survive her puppyhood. Although, at nearly eight months old now, Savannah might be leaving the toddler stage and going into the "terrible 2's." Good grief... no wonder all puppy-hell has broken loose this week.