Puppy Love

Or rather...puppy guilt?
I don't like my dog very much.  I love her and I would never give her away; at 9-1/2 years old, she'd never get adopted anyway and I could never hand her a death sentence.  Not literally.  I have threatened her with death on several occasions.
I used to like her.  A lot.  I chose her from the litter of puppies that had been abandoned in a dumpster.  Apparently, being left behind to fend for yourself at a few (3?) weeks old has lasting effects because Roxie is just not right.  She is sooo needy, it feels unmanageable most of the time.  She has to be with us all the time.  Even as I type this, I recognize that it sounds endearing, that she just loves us that much.  I truly don't think it's that.  If she is dismissed to another room while we eat because she is constantly underfoot, she barks.  Incessantly.  To the point that we weigh our options: which is worse, barking or hovering?  We can't sit on our porch and leave her inside because the barking doesn't quit.  Same with leaving her in the backyard while we are in the front of the house.  No one can walk down the street, particularly with a dog, without there being a major disruption in our house.  She insists on laying on our brand new furniture when we aren't home.  She's eluded the barriers I've put up.  She began chewing up (used) diapers on the floor and on our bed, taking them right out of the can.  Recall that Max is now 2-1/2 and this habit began only about 5 months ago.  She pooped and peed in our old house.   This is not unusual for a dog, which I get.  What was frustrating was that she ONLY did so in Max's room.  Which happened to have white carpet.  Just a few days ago, she brazenly ate a cupcake that Max was so proud to have made and so excited to eat.  She ate it.  Right off the bench I was sitting on as I fixed my shoe.  I felt rage and Max's tears broke my heart.
She won't stay off our bed.  This is our fault, admittedly.  When Dave was in grad school, it was nice to snuggle with Roxie and have her keep my feet warm.  But now, I don't need her to do that anymore.  And she makes my sheets smell and sheds so much I want to change my sheets daily.  This is the selfish part, I know.  Those things didn't matter as much when I was lonely and cold but now my priorities have changed.  That's my fault, not Roxie's.  Which is why I dig deep and find some patience.
Priorities might have everything to do with this shift.  Max entered and our world changed.  Roxie's included.  We honestly tried to include Roxie in our new family.  We paid attention to her, petted her while we held Max, prepped Roxie while I was still pregnant, gave her extra attention when Max did come home.  Roxie never took to Max.  Max has always loved Roxie.  The first time Max approached Roxie without her growling and moving away is disgust occurred at Christmas last year.  Max was about 3 months shy of his 2nd birthday.  21 months of fearing Roxie would snap at our baby, of trying and failing to see our dream of a happy family with kids and dogs come true, of rising tension in the house due to these frustrations.  Then praising the hell out of Roxie when she allowed Max to touch her.  That praise, nor the praise that followed did not help it grow into a Hallmark dog-boy relationship.  Not yet anyway.  But Max is trying like hell.  He just loves that dog.
Our vet told us that when you have a dog, you love that dog and she is your baby.  Then when you have a baby, your dog becomes just your dog.  A canine member of your family, but a dog nonetheless.  Your baby is your baby and your dog is your dog.  It was very comforting to hear that from her, as I know she is obviously a dog lover, and also and dog owner and a mom herself. But it doesn't help me solve my problems.  I am running out of patience with Roxie.  I love her dearly.  I will be devastated when she dies.  (Years ago, I vowed she would live forever.)  But there is a dark and twisty part of me that will feel relief.  Like that family member who is so old and needs so much care it's exhausting.  You don't stop loving that family member and you don't want them to die but part of you will be able to breathe again.
I can rationalize it all I want.  But I still feel the guilt.
And I'm not sure I want another dog.