Our memories fade, sometimes because we’re aging and sometimes because it’s better that way. The painful memories of childbirth and the sleep deprivation of the first few weeks/months of parenthood fade, else no-one would ever have a second (or third or fourth) child. Similarly, I now know from personal experience, the memories of parenting a new puppy fade.

Yes, just like virtually everyone else during this lonely time of Covid, we recently adopted a puppy. I’ve been wanting a new dog for quite a while, but was looking for an older partially pre-trained puppy, with a strong preference for a doodle (my husband is highly allergic). Difficult to find at any time, such a dog is simply not available during a pandemic where everyone is home alone. I had resigned myself to waiting for next spring or summer, when people go back to work in offices and some will no longer be able to take care of the pup they adopted in 2020.

But I had not considered (maybe I had forgotten?!) my husband’s impulsive streak (and his intense desire to see me happy). So, a week or so after my birthday, he forwarded two online ads for doodle puppies within 25 miles of our house. As store owners in India say to lure you in, looking is free. So, we called both owners. We zoomed with one of the puppies, then went to visit him at his birth home (and met the human and canine parents), and … you guessed it … came home with a new pup. Welcome Tux (Tuxedo)!

Our first week-plus of life with Tux was mostly mayhem, with every one of the pup’s waking moments taking our attention away from our own lives. We’re settling into more of a routine, part of which involves the pup learning to play a little by himself. And he is eminently teachable.

I’m grateful for the memory loss that enabled our new puppy acquisition. Not only is Tux the cutest puppy ever, his presence in our house has helped me actualize some of the retirement “plans” I had made.

Tux demands that we be in the moment, a skill I have been working on for years. If you don’t pay him the attention he is owed, he’ll let you know. And when you do let go of the screen or to-do list and focus on him, the rewards are so great, you want to keep doing it forever.

Being “productive”, the bane of my existence, has been redefined. I’ve barely cleaned the house or kept up with incoming mail since Tux came into our lives. But the essentials of life – fixing meals, zoom calls with family and friends, binging Netflix – have all been satisfied, even with Tux in tow. At this point, if Tux has run out of “zoomies” energy and he was able to “drop it” when asked, I’ve had a productive morning.

And finally, I’m able to find the happiness in mundane moments. How can you not feel happy with an adorable puppy asking you to play or coming to give kisses (no longer biting my hand, another example of my newly-defined productivity).

Tux is likely to live until I’m ~80. At that point, memory loss may be more of an issue for me. What will I think then about getting another puppy?

Michele Straube retired three years ago, and remains busy with many “projects”. Tux is helping her experience what a good balance of task-oriented activity and play feels like.

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