A Few Early Reflections on the New Doggie

1. Hard choice. Going to the APL was a great thing to do, but there were several that would have been suitable and the girls liked other dogs, too. It's (somewhat) easy to say no to dogs you know off the bat aren't going to work for you, but it's pretty difficult to leave a dog at the shelter--even a non-euthanizing, well-run, friendly place like the APL--that will probably be a pretty good dog for your family.

2. We chose a 2-year-old (roughly) female, medium-sized, quite sturdy, strawberry blonde mutt dog. I can't remember what mix of breeds they guessed she was at the shelter because I went off and left the folder there (duh, have to get it tomorrow). But my estimation is some variety of Shepherd/Retriever mix with probably other stuff in there. She got excellent "Safer" scores on her temperament tests and is outstanding with the kids.

3. Points of comparison with the previous dog: I suspect she's going to be much more trainable than Wacko was, because she's very people-focused and is always watching us like she's awaiting orders. So we're going to have to get started training her right away. Wacko didn't necessarily have a strong objection to doing what you asked as long as, you know, he didn't have anything better to do. I'm guessing that she's not going to be nearly the flight risk that Wacko was. She also really digs being brushed and combed, and doesn't mind having her paws and toenails held and touched, so she'll be much easier to groom than he was. On the other hand, I don't get the impression that she's quite as confident (yet, anyway) as he was, so I don't know if she's going to have separation anxiety issues, which is not something I ever worried about much with the Wack-job, at least after the first few weeks. And I'm fairly sure that she's not going to be much use as a watchdog, which was something Wacko did quite well. Part Chow, he was.

4. She and the cats still have a few....issues to work out. She's not aggressive and she's pretty friendly. But her first feline interaction consisted of an attempt to sniff Tango, whose reaction was, "The way things work around here is you stay away from me and I don't introduce your nose to the business end of my claws." Dog backed away yelping. Then later, when Pearl tried to come in the room, Dog remembered the earlier interaction and took out after Pearl, which resulted in a time-out in her crate. So we're still learning.

5. Her name is Ruby (Ruby Tuesday, heh). And she's excellent.

Back in the Saddle

So, I think I'm ready.

Readers of this space will know that several months ago, we said goodbye to Wacko the Wonder Dog. It was difficult and painful, as he was in my humble opinion the absolute best dog ever. He was at the very least the perfect dog for me, and the best companion I could have ever asked for. His decline was heart-wrenching, and the end was of course inevitable.

People are of widely differing views on when is the best time to replace a beloved pet. Or perhaps replace isn't the right word, since of course nobody could *ever* actually replace Fido/Fluffy/Tweety/Frank-the-Turtle/whoever. But you know what I mean--get another animal. I know people who go out quite literally a few days later, and I also know people who have waited years. Neither approach is right or wrong. It's right or wrong for the people doing it. Had I gone out dog-shopping the next day it wouldn't have meant that I loved or missed Wacko any less. But, I wasn't ready. I needed to mope and be sad for a while. And, frankly, we said goodbye to him smack in the dregs of a Cleveland winter. Just as a practical matter, the last thing I want is to be training a dog when it's minus ten and/or with a foot of snow on the ground. I needed to wait.

But I think I've waited long enough. Chris has been very good about deferring to me on this issue, making clear that he's ready when I'm ready. And I think I'm ready. I want another dog in my life and I think I'm ready to handle one. Lord knows the children are ready--Abra comes home with a new dog breed book from the library each week: "Mom? Can we get a German Shepherd/Chocolate Lab/Dachshund/Yorkshire Terrier/Bloodhound/Dalmatian?" Good lord.

But really I know what I want to do. Chris and I have already been to a couple of shelters. I understand the argument in favor of shopping carefully for a purebreed puppy, going to a reputable breeder with a money-back guarantee, I really do. When you go that route you have a very good idea, if you've selected your breeder wisely, of what sort of an animal you'll get and you lower the risk that you'll get a thoroughly unsuitable pet. With shelter animals, especially the Dogs Of Indeterminate Genetic Heritage, you sort of shrug your shoulders and make an educated guess.

But quite honestly, acquiring a pet, just as acquiring children, is pretty much a crapshoot anyway. You try to do some research and not make a totally stupid decision, then cross your fingers and roll the dice and hope for the best. Chris and I both have a pretty good idea of certain things that are deal-breakers for us (he has a couple more deal-breakers than I do, but not an unreasonable number so it's OK), as well as a pretty good idea of roughly what we'd like to see. So starting tomorrow, with some fond memories of Wacko tucked away in my pocket for good luck, I'm going to head out with the husband and children to the APL to look for a new canine family member. If the stars align for it, we may have one by this time tomorrow. If not, it will be soon.

Oh, by the way, the cats will be pretty pissed, so stay tuned for that.

Post-party conversation

Exchange that took place between me and Thing 1 as I was walking her back home from a birthday party yesterday:

Thing One: (Nearly non-stop monologue about goings-on at the party, but in particular about one of the Birthday Girl's cats.)
Me: Are you going to take a breath?
Thing One: (Continues monologue.) *Hiccup.*
Me: You OK?
Thing One: Yea. (Starts to resume monologue.) Woh, I threw up just a little bit in my mouth. (Pause.) Tastes like cake. (Resumes monologue.)
Me: (Marvels silently.)