“Now don’t be sad, cause two out of three ain’t bad.” – Meatloaf, Bat Out of Hell
Welcome to The Vibe!
The blog that believes the kids should be back in school while still not letting anyone inside their home.
Each week we discuss ONE IDEA that will help you live a better life.
This week’s topic is your FIRST DOG.
And why sometimes “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.”
The Vibe: Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad
We adopted our first dog.
She’s was an 85 pound lab rescue.
The experiment lasted 68 hours.
The dog went back with the foster, ready to be adopted again.
Never Say Never
Rewind 10 years back.
The year was 2010.
It was the year the iPad was released.
The cast of MTV’s Jersey Shore fist pumped on the board walk.
And every mom in the suburbs sang along to Train’s “Hey, Soul Sister”.
That’s about the time I went on record saying I had ZERO interest in doing any of the following:
- Have a 3rd kid.
- Get a dog.
Let’s start with the fact that I am writing this while looking out to the back yard of the house we bought two summers ago as my 8 year old is doing cart wheels next to me.
Having a third kid is awesome.
Getting the dog?
“Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.“
I started hearing whispers of us needing a puppy a few days into the COVID-19 shutdown.
Two of our kids talked about it non-stop.
After weeks of them asking, we agreed to start “looking” for a “small, little puppy” on two conditions:
- The kids would do the majority of the work.
- They would stop asking us about getting a puppy.
We soon found that trying to get a puppy during a pandemic was like buying a house in a seller’s market.
There was very little inventory.
And the good ones went really fast.
We missed out on the first 5 little dogs we applied for.
Then the next thing you know, we are pulling up to a farm about an hour from our house to meet an 85 pound lab rescue.
Her name was Willow.
We spent about 30 minutes petting and playing with her.
Willow was friendly, a bit assertive, and about an 8.5 on the energy scale.
And definitely NOT small.
The foster told us there were 2 other families coming to meet her after us.
We got back in the car with a decision to make.
Two of our kids were SO EXCITED.
They were ALL IN.
It didn’t feel right to me.
But I wanted to give our kids an experience I never had as a child.
So I broke the cardinal rule I run decisions like this one through…
“If it’s not “Hell Yeah!”, it’s a definite “No”.
I went along and said “Let’ do it!”
We had a few days before Willow was going to be officially ours.
So we geared up by buying every conceivable toy, leash, and other dog swag at PetsMart.
We also took a crash course in dog training by watching Brandon McMillion’s Master Class.
It was the equivalent of watching a few Jiu Jitsu videos on YouTube before jumping into the Purple Belt division of a BJJ tournament.
Brace for impact.
The foster, who was fantastic, dropped off the dog to our house late on a Friday afternoon.
To make things extra interesting, our lawn was aerated a few hours before Willow arrived.
We had no idea if we were scooping up dog or dirt.
Willow immediately took to my wife and I.
She wanted little to do with our kids no matter how much they tried to engage her.
We quickly realized our youngest kid, who was the most excited about getting a dog, could not even walk her.
The dog was too strong & energetic.
By the end of the second day, my wife and I were doing the majority of the work for a dog we got for our kids.
By the end of third day, we were realizing that we may have bit off more dog bone than we could chew.
To cap off our third night together, some neighbors started shooting off fireworks.
I heard about dogs not liking fireworks, but now got to see it first hand in our living room.
After the fireworks calmed down, we all looked at each other.
It was time to change course.
We called the foster.
We both agreed it was best if the dog went to another family.
That next day our entire crew played with Willow one last time before the foster picked her up.
Our three days of furry chaos was coming to a close.
When Willow saw the foster in our driveway, she took off, leaped into her car and never looked back.
No offense taken.
As they pulled away I was somewhere between SAD and RELIEVED.
Thank you for being our first dog.
Wish you an amazing life.
2 thoughts on “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad”
This was an awesome blog Joe! I think your best! You sure gave it your best shot. Like you said, “two out of three ain’t bad!”
Nice post dude. Now I’m allergic to dogs (was not as a kid) and more so to cats (no thanks anyways on them) so I do mourn missing a dog. But my bird is 26 years old and could last another 8-10, so I’m good. Best to you and yours.