Today, I actually thought to myself, “You know, you could just step on her. She’s just a puppy.” Daisy Mae is growing exponentially, and she’s much healthier than when we found her at the shelter, and, consequently, a raging spitfire of puppy energy anytime she is not eating or sleeping. At her hyper peaks, she nips to get attention and thinks “NO” is part of a delightful game. We’ve tried every recommended technique we’ve found for teaching a pup not to bite—holding her lower jaw, stimulating her gag reflex, coating ourselves in bitter concoctions, shaking a can of pennies. The can of pennies is the only thing that seemed to get her attention, by which I mean she stopped going for my hands and feet long enough to try to bite the can of pennies. I’m sure she’s just getting used to the new surges of energy coursing through her, and trying out her new strength, but Jesus Christ.
Of course, I did take advantage of a drowsy moment today to roll her over and sing a song called, “I’ve Got Your Arms, Your Widdle Puppy Arms,” so, you know, we’re all insane and torturing each other in creative ways.