Stoicism and raising a puppy

A month or two ago, my girlfriend, her brother and I went for a drive and came back with a puppy. My girlfriend had been wanting a puppy for many years; now that the day had come where she would get to take one home, she was beaming more than ever. When I lived in Scotland, my family raised and loved a yellow labrador (named Bobby), so I knew what to expect from the coming months. Or so I thought. Bobby came into my life when I was a mere 10 years old, so most of my memories of him are from the later stages in his life. My parents’ memories of this time will probably be better than mine. I have the occasional memory of Bobby chewing on the skirting boards and urinating behind the sofa, but apart from that, he is a dream dog in my mind.

The new puppy (Woody) makes me doubt the integrity of my previous memories. Woody is a chocolate labrador, with an apt name. Anything in our vicinity made of wood will end up suffering the misfortune of being chewed on. The list of casualties includes chairs, desks, tables, skirting boards, book shelves, notebooks and, of course, twigs and branches. This is only the list of his wooden feasts. Woody also has a real taste for plastic and metal, which unfortunately we found out when he chewed his way through my girlfriend’s bike’s chain guard.

This brings me to my first reflection on Stoicism. Keeping a puppy that tries to destroy everything in reach reminded me of the temporary nature of belongings. It is far too easy to forget that even though we purchase items, they don’t last forever. Even if they do out last us, we don’t take them with us. We should appreciate what we have while we have it.

My second reflection is about anger. Before Woody came into my life, I thought that I was very hard to anger: I can’t remember a recent time that felt really angry. Now though, it seems like every day my anger rises to the surface. This usually happens when Woody thinks it’s a good idea to go around trying to eat everything in the house, including computer cables. When this happens, I have a real desire to punish Woody, but really this is only anger trying to take control. Punishment in the form of yelling or hitting serves no good, even in trying to get Woody’s behaviour to change. Some say that it can even reinforce the behaviour. The only reason I have a desire to punish him is because of the anger that bubbles up. The only purpose it serves is as a release for me. I need to accept that chewing is a part of his nature, especially now that he is teething. The best thing to do is to try and redirect his attention to one of his many toys, designed for withstanding his mighty chomp. When he can’t be redirected, it’s time for him to sleep.

When my girlfriend and I were planning living with a new dog, I didn’t think that Stoic values would be an important factor in raising it. I am glad that I was wrong.

Attached is a picture of the (not so little) Woody. Today, he has been a real star of a puppy and as I type this, he is fast asleep in his bed.