Weekend Coffee Share: Rosie

If we were having coffee, I’d have to give it to you in a travel mug with a lid because my new puppy has developed a taste for coffee and all cups of java in my home must be served with a lid for the foreseeable future. She’s already shown a talent for knocking a full steaming mug out of my hands while trying to plunge her entire face into its depths. Obviously, the lid is to protect my puppy from burning her sweet little face.


Also, it’s coffee. She’s already robbed me of roughly half of every meal I’ve tried to eat in the past six weeks. She’s destroyed my favorite Ryka sandals and three pair of my son’s  basketball shoes, not to mention the impressive amount of blood she’s taken from my hands, arms and ankles. I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and I’m drawing that line right around my bright pink travel mug filled with strong coffee and a generous dollop of hazelnut creamer. 

My coffee is the one thing this little demon is not going to take from me.  

I may be exaggerating just a bit. Not by much, though. While Rosie is not a vicious animal, she is playful and energetic, and I am discovering that I was woefully unprepared to be a single parent to an eight week old Husky puppy. 

That’s right; I brought home a Husky, despite my experience with my late husband’s Husky, Razz, who sank his teeth into my arm the first time we met and decided that I was quite tasty. “Never get a Husky,” the Big Guy used to say, “They’re hard-headed, even more stubborn than you.”

I really need to start listening when people say things like that. 

My high school mascot was a Husky. Our rivals were the Mustangs, and we used to shout things like “Huskies eat horsemeat!” at them during football games. It’s been more than 30 years since I graduated, but I still think of myself as a Husky. Proud and strong, a Husky to my dying day. 

My college mascot was a beaver, but I really can’t envision any circumstance in which I’d declare myself to be a beaver, proud and strong, a beaver to my dying day. 

At any rate, I promised my kids we’d get a new puppy when our Heeler died last May at the ripe old age of twelve. We checked out shelters and searched for just the right animal: a puppy who would grow up to be a member of our family. A protector and a friend. A smart, loyal, loving animal who would respect  us and learn to get along well with our three cats. 

Instead, we got Rosie. 

One of the Amish families in our neighborhood had a hand-lettered sign by the road that said “SPITZ PUPPIES.” I turned in on impulse, and a young man led my son and me down a trail into the woods, where a tiny kennel was nearly overflowing with dogs of all sizes and ages. Too many dogs and puppies. My heart broke for them; I wanted to take all of them home with me, right then and there. 

He scooped up one tiny, shivering bundle of black and white fur and placed her in my arms. She immediately burrowed in under my chin, making all kinds of little quivery puppy noises. My heart melted on the spot. It was love at first cuddle.

But I had one concern. “She looks like a Husky,” I said.

“Her mother is half Husky,” our guide admitted. “Father is Eskimo Spitz, mother is Spitz and Husky. Mostly Spitz, though.”

“I’m not sure if we should get a Husky,” I told my son. The puppy licked the underside of my chin and promptly fell asleep.

Obviously, I had no choice. “She’s just so sweet,” I sighed. Surely her sweet, calm nature came from the Spitz part of her. Her Husky nature couldn’t be that strong, right?

Well, the little con artist waited three days before showing us her true nature. She’s clearly a Husky/Spitz/Tasmanian Devil mix. She’s a whirling, bouncing, hyperactive ball of demonic energy. She never stops moving or chewing. This morning, for example, she managed to destroy an entire package of wooden clothespins while I was in the shower. 

In the shower, folks. I didn’t even wash my hair or shave my legs! I wasn’t in there for more than a few minutes. I don’t even know where she found an entire package of clothespins. I looked for those things all freaking summer and couldn’t find them, but the demon found and destroyed them in the amount of time it took me to take a very quick shower. 

She chews everything. My days have become an endless cycle of chasing Rosie and hollering at her to give me whatever personal possession or nasty bit of garbage she happens to have in her mouth. The neighbors are starting to give me strange looks every time I dash outside after her, yelping things like, “Gimme the tampon, Rosie!”

She redeemed herself a tiny bit last night, however. While we were outside for her last potty break before bed, I heard the unmistakable sound of coyotes in the woods behind the house. I stepped back toward the door, tugging on Rosie’s leash to get her to hurry up. 

Rosie was no longer interested in going to the bathroom. She stood at high alert between me and the woods, baring her teeth and growling. Growling soon changed to angry barking. In that instant, my hyperactive little demon-dog transformed into a twelve pound ball of pure rage.

It was adorable. 

I doubt if she could have protected me from anything more ferocious than a rampaging chipmunk, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

My week was actually pretty eventful; I have a lot more going on in my life than just a battle of wills with a demonic puppy, but she’s sort of front and center in my attention at the moment.  But enough about Rosie and me: How was your week? Coffee’s nice and hot, so grab a travel mug and pull up a chair and tell me all about it.

Author: A.J. Goode

I am a romance novelist, single mother of three, and a high school lunchlady. To be completely honest, I have no idea which of those jobs is the most rewarding and which is the biggest challenge. I love them all. I write romance novels about the kind of people who might pass me on the street every day. My characters are often hurting in some way, and need to learn to trust others in order to heal themselves. I also blog about trying to focus on writing, and about my day-to-day experiences in small-town America. I write about life. The good, the bad, and the just plain odd.

3 thoughts on “Weekend Coffee Share: Rosie”

  1. Congratulations on yout fur baby. Mine is 15 months. I couldn’t have survived without the crate. My husband is home most of the day thankfully so it’s not for long but we haven’t had any problems with this guy chewing up shoes like out last puppy did. Lots of toys help too. He did try chewing on my lazy boy a few times but we sprayed bitter apple spray on it. It took him a few tastes before he decided he didn’t like it though!
    Good luck with yout new addition.


  2. Hi AJ and I have to say – I loved your coffee share. You had me laughing within moments.

    And yes, you should have gutsed-up and walked away from that puppy, but you didn’t and now the little monster has a death grip on a big part of your heart. You — are doomed.

    I’ve never owned a husky, but they have a strong reputation for exactly what you wrote, that and the genetic need to run around between at least 3 full time zones, so, you will soon be regularly scheduling time to search for her. I understand there is virtually no way to restrain them from what they believe to be their constitutional right-to-roam-widely.

    Okay, we’ve just met and you don’t know squat about me, but I hope to change this. I almost never follow someone’s blog after one visit, but you have my attention.

    1) You’re a peer literary rowdy and an accomplished author. I was born with the first and aspire to the second.

    2) I’ve come to value these coffee shares and they have both brought me new (writing) friends who inspire me to improve my own writing and have made me a better writer. I hope you come back, but note that our host, Alli, is taking a break and it’s not clear to me that someone else has picked up the task of producing and sharing out the share-site tomorrow (Friday 11/27/19), so this is another reason, I decided to just follow you so I don’t miss the chance to come back and check out more of your blog.

    I hope you find time to come by my story blog and give me the chance to return the laugh/favor. My project for now is the creation and sharing of short (<2001 words) rowdy (mostly) autobiographical (but fun) stories from my own life of growing up. I'm being deliberate about writing to entertain, leaving vivid images and fun turns of phrases. You clearly know how to do what I'm trying to do, so I'll be back to figure out how you did it.

    If you find time between saving your clothing from Rosie and talking to your home-owners insurance agent about increasing your property coverage to include wakes of doggie devastation, I hope you'll take 10 minutes to check out a few of my attempts to share a laugh or two about surviving my childhood and later life. Be careful about reading them with your coffee. With your sense of humor, I'm not sure I want your first words of feedback to include spewing said coffee into your keyboard.

    Would it be presumptuous of me to leave you with a link back to my collection and one as a first-read suggestion to give you a taste of what I like to produce? Yes? Well tough, the worst you might do is ignore me, but then you might grace me with a visit and I might get to share a good laugh. In my own coffee share for last week, I shared a link to my favorite thanksgiving/Christmas season story which is not as funny but became a huge favorite with my readers as a seasonal essay. Here are those links.


    Thanks for the great laugh and coffee share. Let's do it again soon.

    Also, there still may be time to put chainmail leggings on your Christmas list. They might be a striking look for you and keep some of your at-risk blood inside your body and force Rosie to shred something other than you for a few minutes.

    Warmest regards


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