Dan's Papers -February 13, 2009 -

A boy and his dog. It's an iconic, evocative image. Make that dog a soft-faced golden retriever with its ever-present smile, and it's right out Norman Rockwell if not Hallmark.

So when our son was four years old and our 10-year old Golden Retriever, Ruby, passed away, it shattered that American dream. In December, I wrote about the loss and how to help a child through the grieving process that follows the death of a pet. Like many parents, we decided to wait rather than get a quick replacement.

And wait we did, more than a year. Finally, in October, we went to a breeder and picked out a six-week-old blonde fuzz ball from a litter of Goldens. We brought her home at eight weeks, ready to recreate the boy and his dog scenario, this time from puppy hood.

But bringing an energetic, untrained puppy into a family accustomed to a mature, mellow dog didn't turn out as we had planned. Our son was born into a family of two adults and a five-year-old dog who was the epitome of unconditional love and patience. She allowed us to give Hudson the attention he needed, and become his protector and constant companion.

But now, an infant puppy burst into an established family dynamic of two adults and a five-year old boy, demanding more attention than a baby.

It was rough going at first. Hudson wanted to play with the puppy as he had with Ruby. She'd have none of it. This girl nipped and squiggled away. She didn't see Hudson as someone to protect, she saw him as competition to eliminate. After school, the puppy yipped and yapped for attention from my partner, who preferred to lavish it on our son after being away from him all day. If Hudson ran, the puppy chased, barked and nipped. But most disturbing, her playful nipping quickly escalated to angry biting - especially with our son. We adults had more success establishing ourselves as pack leaders. Hudson, at four feet tall, didn't stand a chance. She bit his hand, arm, thigh, and the last straw, his stomach one evening while he danced slowly after dinner.

It got to the point where we had to play with them separately, giving us less time with our son. She's a puppy, we thought. She'll grow out of it. But the biting continued - anytime Hudson ran, made a sudden move or even played with her one second longer than she liked.

Discipline turned into a scream-fest. First at her, then him. Control his behavior and it will be easier to control hers. What that meant was that he had to walk slowly in the house, preferable with his arms crossed in front of him - those little dangling hands and wiggling fingers were bait. When he sat at the table, his sock-covered feet became chew toys for her. He crossed his legs when he ate. Hudson's joy of putting on music and dancing came to an end, unless the pup was upstairs in her crate. We realized that the behavioral problem was the puppy's - not his.

In the spirit of the name of this column, I will freely admit that the decision was a mistake. The biting was the big issue. We couldn't risk our son being hurt by a dog and I don't think we would've ever felt completely comfortable leaving them alone. So, after almost three months, we and the puppy's breeder came to the conclusion that it wasn't a good fit, and he agreed to take her back.

It's been about a week. Our son is handling it surprisingly well. And today, when we started his "VIP board," the only pet photos he wanted to include were of Ruby, not the puppy.

Maybe if we worked with a trainer regularly the biting problem would have abated.

Maybe if one of us were home full time, giving her more attention and exercise throughout the day, she would have been calmer.

Maybe if we had gotten an older dog that was trained and mellow with age, or a puppy that was less aggressive, it would have been a better fit.

I don't know. But, just as we told our son after Ruby died, you can't replace members of your family. Nor can you duplicate an experience.