My Whac-A-Mole Life: A Memo To Our New Puppy

Dear Puppy,

Blame it on the timing.

A few weeks before we met you, after passing me our weary, 14-year-old dog on her leash, the vet handed me a paperback booklet with the title, A Final Act of Caring. No need to go into the details, but that pretty much translates into, “it’s time to make sure that all your doggy affairs are in order.”

The sepia tone is intended to
emulate an "in memoriam" effect
(and hopefully mask the amount of
excess fur on her Cowgirl Dora bed).

Not too long after that, late in the night, I hugged that dear, old dog to sleep for good. I know it sounds callous, but it was quick, painless (for her, at least) and I swear her eyes emitted gratitude. An inoperable bladder tumor is no fun, and she had been moping around looking – well – depressed. An ultrasound confirmed her bleak, unsustainable status. It wasn’t easy, but it was time.

The next morning we had to break the news to the kids, and hope that our gentle, prescient warnings and weeks of intentionally staged moments of bonding would help ease the shock (it didn't).

It should come as no surprise that page 23 of A Final Act of Caring wisely warns: “Although it may be tempting to quickly get another pet, this is generally not a good idea.”

So naturally, against all better judgment, we ignored that advice, and you bet we were the first ones in the door at our nearest Humane Society animal shelter THAT VERY SAME DAY!

As for you, dear pup, it was your first morning on the "showroom" floor, having JUST been released for public viewing post-spaying. See? Timing. Because, as you well know, you were the cutest puppy in that joint and nobody could have seen you and left empty-handed. Let's just say that when the kids begged to take you home, no arms had to be twisted.

I suspect that back in the day, while you and your litter-mates scruffed around, dreaming of the perfect family (“betcha they’re young, betcha they’re smart; bet they collect things like ashtrays and art”), you never could have imagined OUR family. I mean, nobody really could.

Yet, here we all are, so I thought I’d give you some pointers. Don’t worry; the paw prints you’re following weren't exactly stellar. We loved her, of course, and she was our first baby; but if I'm being honest: she wasn't the easiest, best behaved dog around. However, she did know the deal breakers.

Since you’re new here and as the saying goes, “last one hired; first one fired,” here’s some advice to ease your transition.

Your "menacing" bark might have served you well in some other household, bending your owners to your will; but around here it merely adds harmony to our daughter’s screams. Not going to happen. (BTW, any sign of unprovoked or frightening aggression toward the children really is your ticket out.)

We’ll walk you and understand that it might take time to fully house-train you, but you have to give a little too. FOCUS! While we’re outside doing your business, try to stay on task. Explore worms, helicopters and the earth’s rotation on your own time…preferably not while the girl is alone inside the house, ransacking the contents of the refrigerator.

Did you notice your litter brothers’ parts hanging all hither and tither? Yes, that’s why we knew we only could adopt a female pup. Our daughter would notice too. Still, she will spend time looking in your ears, mouth and who knows what else, so be patient. Now the boy of the house is the kindest kid ever, but his “petting” hand more closely resembles a claw crane. I guess what I’m saying here is that you’ll just have to leave any sensory defensiveness at the door.

Sharing is caring. When you’re big enough, part of your responsibilities will be to eat the crumbs off the floor. Please do so scrupulously. (You’ll like this job.) In turn, you might have to give the girl a taste of your favorite cow ear chew thing. I'm thinking it should even out in the end though, mmkay?

Your accommodations include a huge, fenced-in yard that, theoretically, would be any high-energy pet’s dream. However, our old dog notoriously broke out and explored the neighborhood (we liked to think she was a secret agent working with the OWCA a la Phineas and Ferb); and you seem hesitant to leave the deck. We’ll work on that.

You have gained a lot of favor by sleeping quietly all night in your ~~cage~~ crate. Your predecessor (Houdini Dog) broke out of three crates – and required a midnight trip to the Doggy ER to patch her up from one particularly bloody escape - before we gave in. Her unlikely bed of choice was our daughter’s discarded Dora the Explorer foam sleep chair toy thingy. Thus, we sincerely appreciate your cooperative acclimation to your crate, and this – along with your extraordinary cuteness (and that you don't slurp your paws all night like another canine we knew but let's not name names) - will be considered in the event that you fail to keep up your end of this bargain.

You love to play with toys, and you gamely bring us balls, socks and such for tugging and chasing. Well done! Follow up, if I may: This isn't a requirement, but I’m wondering what else you can fetch. Can you fetch the kids’ carpools? You totally can take the minivan. Let’s talk.

So, dear puppy, as you now are quite aware, we are loud, unpredictable, chaotic and on the move in this household. You might have dreamed that “maybe in a house all hidden by a hill; she’s sitting playing piano, he’s sitting paying a bill.” Instead, thanks to our poor judgment and your speedy recovery, you got us.

I do hope this helps you adjust to your new environment, as we’re already in puppy love with you. And while you seem happy enough with us, just in case, please accept our apologies in advance.