Monday, August 25, 2008

How Much is That Puppy in the Window?

The last time I got a dog, it was easy. Then again, I was young and naive. It was a simple trip to the shelter at 92nd and York, picked out a pooch, and headed home. Sure, choosing a border collie/spaniel mix was a bit nuts given that I lived in a studio apartment in Manhattan. But he was such a cutie.


He was also a triple reject and came with claims that he couldn't be housebroken. With a little love and structure, he was easily housebroken. In fact, he was curb trained. There was a learning curve, sure, but we wound up having 12 great years together.


This time around couldn't have been more different. There were many more considerations about breed: small enough for the city, mellow enough to live with a persnickety cat, and non-shedding. That led us to seek out Cockapoo breeders.


The nearest one didn't return our outreach calls. The next one required that we clear our schedules for at least four months and not leave the pup alone for more than two hours (and that commitment was just the first step in the approval process). The third required a four page application that was similar in depth to the vetting for a spot as candidate for Vice President.


Finally, the fourth (the farthest, the most expensive) had pups available and made it no more difficult (and only slightly less expensive) than buying a Porsche. Truth be told, the breeder was a great help. She set us up with lots of supplies and answered all of our questions.


Once we had our little guy (and he is a cutie), things got even more complicated. Which vet to choose? Which trainer to engage? Which puppy socialization group to join? To crate train or not? What about doggy day care? The questions cascade like a spilled bag of kibble.
The vet and breeder told us to keep contact with other dogs to a minimum until he had had all of his shots (16 weeks). Then the trainer said that weeks 12 - 14 are critical to his socialization. Screw this up and we'll need to engage a doggie therapist later on. We decided to take our chances and he's enjoying his canine companions.
We've engaged, I'm almost afraid to admit, a Zen dog trainer. Grasshopper, when you can snatch this training treat from my hand... She's great, but I do feel like we've crept a bit too far up Maslow's hierarchy of needs.
The search for doggie day care keeps me up nights. Friends have conflicting recommendations and the online reviews for each provider seem to range from "they make my little darling feel like a king" to "my little darling came home with a gaping chest wound that no one at XXX seemed to notice." There's even a puppy prep school.
I am going out to buy several pair of cargo pants as each walk requires paper for picking up droppings, treats to reward the dropping process, a flashlight after dark, and occassionally the puppy training manual for last minute reference in the field. We've even found a doggie water bottle that flips down for easy Fido sipping and that clips onto my belt.
I wouldn't trade this dog for anything, but I miss the days when a dog was just a dog.


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