We've had our black lab Lucy since she was 2 months old, and her first year was the closest I'll ever come to raising kids (I don't dislike kids, it's just not in the cards for us). Her first two nights in our house in Arizona gave me sympathy for those who have ever lived with a newborn. We could hear her loudly crying ALL NIGHT in her kitchen crate from our adjacent bedroom.
I don't know if you're familiar with labradors, but lab puppies are a little like fuzzy tornadoes. Lucy had (and still has but not to the same extreme) the crazy eyes. She ate every object in the backyard: lawn chairs, rocks, towels, all 13 of our sprinkler heads. I even once glanced out the back window to see her running by with the rake in tow. Training sessions with her were like pulling teeth - she was physically unable to focus on anything but Jeff the Cat inside the house, even when he was out of the room. Her eyes remained locked on his last known position throughout the lessons. Because she wouldn't even let you hold her without flopping like a fish, she earned the nickname, "Squirmy Worm".
Squirmy Worm, seen here attempting her first ever escape
Now that she's 3, Lucy has calmed down a great deal, but has retained her intense energy. We never quite mastered walking on a leash so excursions are a bit of a nightmare. She pulls so hard she chokes herself and makes awful wheezing noises. We finally switched her to a harness which seems to have cut down on the choking, but not the dragging. If I could construct a machine that could harness her spasticity, I would be celebrated for solving the current energy crisis.
Could easily power south Austin, if not for her noxious gasses