By Lisa Cohn
In this blog, Raising River: A Puppy Mom’s Diary, I chronicle my experiences raising golden retriever River, who joined our family June 8, 2026 at the age of eight weeks.
With this diary, I hope to share with dog lovers of all ages stories about the surprises, sleeplessness, bruised limbs and laughter that come with raising a puppy.
One: Eight-Week-Old River Has the Zoomies
When River first came home–a super friendly, wag-wag-wagging package of 8-week-old energy, I slept maybe from 1 am to 6 am.
River stayed up very late zooming around my bedroom. He chewed on my pillows, my clothing and my arms and legs.. He destroyed favorite stuffies, spewing their insides all over the floor. He peed on my bed and floor every few hours.
During the day, when I sleepily walked him around our neighborhood, he greeted humans and dogs with gusto. It was as if his mission was to make as many friends as possible, as quickly as possible.
Here’s what it looked like from River’s point of view when we waited to pick up a friend at a small airport near Bend, Oregon:
Humans both big and little are coming out of the building with suitcases and bags and sacks of treats. The happy ones smell like pine and juniper. Others smell like rotten apples, dead fish and sweat.
I’m there with Mommy, counting. My tail wags in circles while she waits for her friend to come out.
I’m a mathletic puppy! Wag! Wag! I’m counting!
When the humans get close to me, the Juniper and pine people pet and admire me. They say, “What’s his name? How old is he? He’s so adorable!”
That’s five “adorables” so far.
Mommy, holding my leash tight, smiles and says, “His name is River, as in River of Mischief. He’s just over 8 weeks old.”
“He’s so cute,” says a little girl with pigtails. She smells like cotton candy.
That’s 14 cutes so far. I need more.
***
During this time period, I cried every day about golden retriever Hudson, who passed away in April. I missed his calm presence and our unwavering bond. When I was away for a few hours or a few days, he stationed himself at our front door and waited. When I returned, he galloped in circles around me, barking with joy, then velcroed himself to my side.
If someone appeared on our daily walks with an aggressive dog, Hudson warned me to stay away by sitting and refusing to move. I could always feel his anxiety–and he could feel mine. As my daughter once said, “It feels like Hudson is talking to me.”
If I was sad, Hudson sat beside me and peered into my face as if saying, “Let me help you.”
At just over 8 weeks old, River didn’t seem to sense my sadness. With a tail that wagged so constantly and quickly it made me dizzy, he focused on attracting as many compliments as possible and making friends, both human and canine. I encouraged these friendships while I fought back my tears of grief. I told myself this would get easier, that soon we’d be bonded.
Coming next: Socializing at the grocery store, trouble at the park and an urgent care visit.