Thirty-something speaks
Daisy the destroyer
Mike Maddock

My wife and I may just be certifiably insane. We finally reached a point where our third child is just that…a child. He can do things for himself and doesn't require any kind of special equipment like a stroller or pull- ups. He generally sleeps through the night. If he stirs just a little in his bed, I don't have to listen to him on a baby monitor that amplified his every move to the point he sounded more like a stadium full of KISS fans than a kid having a bad dream. He brushes his teeth and puts on his own socks. Could a sleep- deprived parent ask for more?

Apparently so.

I guess my wife and I live by the motto, "Too much of a good thing is still too much." So rather than enjoy our new found freedoms and slightly consistent full nights of sleep, my wife and I decided we'd rather suffer. I guess we thought life's just too short for a little rest and relaxation.

So what did we do?

We went out and got another dog. Nope, one dog and three kids simply was not enough for us, because we're just that stupid. We're that lucky too; because we didn't get Lady…we got Tramp. We didn't get Lassie…we got Hootch. Logic says that a Cocker Spaniel would be a good, safe dog to bring into a fairly large family, but then again, this family is not about logic.

Daisy the Cocker Spaniel entered our lives this Christmas and no roll of toilet paper in our house has been safe since. She constantly leaves trails from the bathroom to the living room. At one end is the cardboard roll and at the other end is an adorable, little puppy ripping through Charmin like a Great White on a wounded seal. It's hard to find a Barbie doll in our house that doesn't have teeth marks. Of course, the Barbies are lucky if they survive an encounter with Daisy and escape with only teeth marks. Most are missing feet or arms, and there's one Ken doll that will never be the same. My house is like graveyard for discarded tiny mannequins and their tiny parts.

Toilet paper and Barbie dolls are just appetizers for the newest addition to our family. Basically anything below the knees is fair game including children and my Bassett hound. We've had pictures, board games, table legs, DVDs, and more fall prey to the little Tasmanian devil dog. My poor Bassett hound has gone into hiding. He got tired of being a chew toy and now spends most his time in my son's bed behind a wall of Teddy bears and pillows.

I know eventually Daisy will calm down or run out of things to destroy, whichever comes first. I just hope it's soon, because she's tougher than an infant. Sure with a baby there's diapers, late nights, and lots of crying, but babies don't move. Set them down in one place and it's pretty much a guarantee that baby will be in the same place when you come back. There's no such luxury with a puppy. My wife and I knew that before we brought Daisy home, but we can live with mangled Barbies and traumatized Ken dolls. It's the toilet paper I'm worried about.