New pooch stays lovable despite chewed furniture, poop problems | THE MOM STOP

Anyone who has read this column regularly or knows me in “real” life knows that my family is a boxer family.

Not the sport — the dog. We are currently on boxers No. 2 and No. 4 — Maggie and Zeus.

The neighbors who walk by our home likely know our house by the barky boxer in the large office window — that’s Maggie, who thinks it's her calling in life to defend her home by barking incessantly at any moving thing outside our doors, including the UPS delivery trucks.

Or there is Zeus, our newest, six-month-old puppy. We’ve had Zeus for about a month. He patiently will follow us around the neighborhood without a leash, staying constantly by our side, only to hide behind our legs when he spots the tiny shih tzu or the barky wiener dog that lives down the street. While he's a very large, playful lapdog, poor Zeus does not know his size.

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When we lost our 2-year-old boxer to cancer in March, we thought about getting another dog. We had a chocolate cocker spaniel for years. I looked into adopting an English bulldog through a rescue shelter. We thought about maybe getting a springer spaniel or a golden retriever. But those thoughts didn’t last long, since it was always going to be another boxer.

They call boxers the clown breed because they are goofy, playful dogs who love their people fiercely and are great with kids. Their short fur is low maintenance and other than a relatively short lifespan — unfortunately, often due to cancer or heart conditions — they are seemingly the perfect dog.

I had never had a boxer chew as a puppy, except for our first boxer, who we adopted at 4 years old and who had a disgusting proclivity for eating dirty diapers. Through three boxers, our furniture was safe. No chew marks that mar the household and declare the presence of a young dog. Our dogs have also been the easiest to housetrain.

And then came Zeus. He’s such a smart dog. He’s relatively calm, stays close to us and is genuinely such a sweet boy.

But then there is his proclivity to chewing wood. First, it was the decorative edge of an East Lake style, century-old side table that I had inherited. Chewed. Apparently, it was just too appetizing.

Or the trim on the footboard of our king bed, just purchased in January. Gnarled. Or the corner of my childhood oak dresser, the bottom frame of my Duncan Phyfe style mahogany antique dining room table, or one of the legs of the matching lyre chairs.

I can’t use bitter apple spray on our furniture fast enough, so much so that I’m considering giving up and wrapping the legs and exposed corners of any wood furniture in the house with towels and duct tape.

Not to mention the difficulty of housetraining. The Lord must have chuckled when he brought this dog into our lives — because I’ve cleaned up more poop in the last month than I swear I did in the almost six years straight I was changing diapers for my own children.

And just when I think that Zeus might have the hang of it, when it’s been more than 24 hours since I’ve stepped in or cleaned up excrement, I come home from a long day of work and volunteering at vacation Bible school to the distinct smell that wafted through our downstairs.

I looked in our family room, nothing. Then in the dining room, nada. The office was also empty. Then, I found our stalled robotic vacuum in the hallway. Apparently, its battery had died.

As I picked up the vacuum, I yelped when my fingers sank into poop encrusted into the bottom of the device. Apparently, God has even a bigger sense of humor. The Roomba had rolled over poop on my most expensive antique Turkish rug in my formal living room. The Roomba, grinded the poop into the coarse, hand-knotted fibers, and proceeded to drag the poop all over the rug, onto the hard floors, and even knocked over the brass fire place screen and rolled poop all over it, too.

I felt like crying as I got on my hands and knees to scrub up the mess. And then a certain, very guilty boxer pup came up to plant a big wet lick across my face. He then laid down in the middle of his mess and looked up at me with his big brown eyes. And sighed.

One day, I will remember this. One day, I will laugh. Zeus is lucky he is cute. He is lucky that we love him.

And despite all the chewing, despite the poop, I know we are lucky to have him. If only I can hire someone to come house-train him — and persuade Zeus not to eat the antiques.

Lydia Seabol Avant writes The Mom Stop for The Tuscaloosa News. Reach her at momstopcolumn@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: New pooch stays lovable despite chewed furniture, poop | THE MOM STOP