Puppy

On Labor Day, September 5, 2016, exactly two days before the “Get Day” for Preston, we picked up a new puppy.

It wasn’t quite how we expected it to be.

There was a miscommunication via email between the breeder and Paul in which the breeder decided that we wanted to wait until a new litter was to be born in mid-October. Well, that wasn’t really what was meant, but when we went to talk to her and look at the puppies, including the ONE that we thought was OURS, it turned out that she had sold all of them.

So we shrugged. Not much one could do then. We signed up for one of the upcoming litter.

“They will be more calm,” she said. “This litter was between two highly motivated and active dogs.”

Okay, I thought. That was absolutely that. I didn’t care. I wasn’t ready anyway.

So we signed up for the October litter. And we went about our merry ways.

Ursus was extremely happy.

Then, out of the blue, the breeder sent an email to Paul saying that she had a puppy for us.

This puppy was meant for her grand-daughter, who also owned the dam of the puppy. However, the grand-daughter lived in an apartment. When the grand-daughter tried to clear having a new puppy, the landlord said “no Way!”

He hadn’t even heard the vocal chords of this little girl yet!

Anyway, suddenly, the breeder told us that there was a puppy available.

So, we go to look at this girl on Labor Day. Along the way, Paul tells me that he told the breeder that he wanted more than one puppy for me to choose from. I realized right there that he wanted me to be forced into making a decision. A decision I could probably never have made. Two adorable puppies? How could I choose?

Then this happened. Paul kept saying: You can choose the dog and the name, but I have Veto power. Typical.

There we were with this adorable little puppy. There was no wavering. We were going to take this little girl home.

So we did.

Paul and I had actually had to scrounge up the money because the breeder said she would only take cash. Since it was Labor Day and the banks were closed, Paul’s ATM would allow him $800 and I made up the other $300. Expensive little demon, she was. Preston only cost $75 (initially).

I held on to the puppy while Paul drove back home. The puppy kept trying to climb up on my shoulders. It didn’t quite work until we stopped at Baja Fresh for some take-out dinner. She immediately climbed onto my shoulders and wrapped herself around my neck like a scarf. She was so cute.

We took her home. Paul had already set up her “playpen” so we dumped her in there while we had dinner.

She actually fell asleep. The breeder said that the puppy had been out and playing all afternoon. I am sure that this was their strategy: poop the pup out so the new people think how wonderful she is to sleep through that first night.

Well. She did, mostly. About 4:30 am she woke up and started crying. I got up and took her outside. When I brought her back in, I sat in the family room where her “playpen” is to watch her.

In part, I was preparing for that first colonoscopy that I mentioned in an earlier entry. I was really enjoying getting up early and sitting around reading a very stupid book. Sometimes really stupid is the way to go.

I had many names before I settled on the one that she has now. Granted. Paul had that veto power and he used it.

My first choice was “Gilda.”

“Too Jewish,” said Paul. Okay. I wasn’t married to the name. I just liked it for her.

So, we kept on. I finally turned to a dog-name site and somehow stumbled across the name: Isadora.

That was it! I knew it. I presented it to Paul and we were suddenly in agreement.

“Isadora Duncan,” he said.

So it was said. So it was done.