So, I have a story to tell about puppies and love and finally losing the delusion that I can do anything if I try hard enough.

Everyone knows I had a dog named Lucy who passed away a couple years ago. It took a while, but I was eventually ready for a new dog.

Instead of adopting an adult dog, like I did Lucy, I got a puppy. I was so devastated when Lucy died that I would have given anything for a couple more years. A puppy seemed like the way to have a couple extra years with my new dog.

This is Lucy, of course.

The puppy, as you probably know, was Hazel. She came home with me in April at 8 weeks old.

I had gotten some (in retrospect, very bad) advice to look for a field bred spaniel, as opposed to a bench bred spaniel. “Easier to train.”

LOL

What I learned that really meant was that Hazel had been bred to work. Yes, she was a companion house dog too, but she had the drive and brains and ungodly energy level to run up and down mountains or round up cattle (maybe not cattle).

For about seven months, I went through what every puppy parents does—total misery: shredded clothes and bloody ankles from shark teeth, potty training, socializing, googling, etc.

But I was struggling. Really struggling. Hazel was so hyper every second of the day that she bounced off the walls and off me. I hid upstairs and cried a lot. I then felt trappped upstairs or harassed every time we were in the same room.

I took her to daycare. I hired a professional trainer. I read books. I desperately searched for play dates (thanks pandemic). I spent hours each day trying to burn up her energy with physical and mental exercise.

It didn’t work.

I lost 15 lbs. About 25% of my hair fell out. I cried daily. I resented Hazel. And I loathed myself for failing her.

I didn’t understand. I was working So Hard. I should be able to do anything if I just worked harder. My friends rolled their eyes at my stress level and told me I must be exaggerating. That all puppies were a challenge. I internalized that and worked harder.

But eventually I had to face facts: I had found something I could not do. I simply was not enough for Hazel. And believing that if I just worked hard enough, or just researched more, or just gritted my teeth and survived—a cherished delusion of my type-A overachieving self.

Then, I had to decide to do what was best for Hazel. And that meant a multi-person family ideally with a compatible dog and an ultra high energy lifestyle.

With a lot of self-loathing, I started reaching out to breed specific groups.

I wanted to find the right family for Hazel, but I couldn’t bear the thought of a shelter. I had accepted the responsibility of raising/caring for her, and if I couldn’t do it, then by hell I was going to do the one thing I could do: find the right place for her.

After a few very nasty conversations with some breed specific rescues, I found one group that would let me keep her until a forever family was found (no intervening foster), meet any prospective family, and request they stay in touch so I could be sure Hazel was happy and loved.

On thanksgiving weekend, I met the second interested family. An energetic young couple who lived near her parents on a big tract of land in rural PA. The parents had a field bred spaniel with bonkers energy like Hazel and decades of experience training cockers to be hunting dogs

During the pandemic, they were all living together most of each week. They were perfect. They were actually seeking a hyper dog that could keep up with them—and they knew what that involved.

Hazel loved them immediately. We spent a couple hours playing frisbee and talking.

They took her home that day to start a 4-week trial period which ended around Christmastime.

Here’s Hazel meeting her new sister

Folks, Hazel is thriving like I could hardly believe. She runs in the woods for hours, plays and sleeps with her sister Harper, and is doted on (and trained) by 4 humans who are completely besotted with her.

It has taken me 2 months to talk about this publicly, because I still feel such shame about not being able to hack it as Hazel’s mom, about not being enough. But it’s clear to me it was the right decision. Hazel is so much happier. And just look at how adorable her new fam is

Anyway, it’s been a real growing experience to run into my own limitations like that. I’m sure it was good for me in some way My hair stopped failing out about 2 weeks ago, also a plus.

Hazel’s new family still keeps me updated with cute stories and photos. I hope they continue with that forever. There’s a little bit of pain with each update but a lot of love too.

So the story doesn’t exactly end there.

About 3 weeks ago (a couple weeks after Hazel’s adoption was finalized after the 4-week trial), my contact at the cocker club called me. This is a woman I would do pretty much anything for at this point. She was so supportive and such a cheerleader every step of the way.

“I know you said you wouldn’t be ready for another dog for a while but I really think you would be perfect for this dog we’ve just been contacted about. She and her sister are suddenly not getting along-her owner thinks she’d be happier in a home where she gets all the attention”

I told Susan that I wasn’t ready, that it was possible my love mechanism was just broken, but I’d go meet this dog as a favor to her.

So here she is. Meet Stella. She’s 5, still super active like most cockers but not hyper, a total couch potato and champion sprinter in one. She has a moose nose, stern bushy eyebrows, and is so goofy

We just finished week 1 of the 4-week trial and I already know she’s my dog.

I am so lucky to have had three chances at dog love like this. So lucky to have folks who believed I was a good dog mom even when I didn’t. So lucky to have Stella.

Stella’s asleep on my chest rn

The end :) stay tuned for lots more photos of moose baby Stella