Sorry about all the Debbie Downer nonsense last Tuesday. I guess I should explain. You know the scene at the end of the Surplus episode of The Office, when Michael, in a floor length mink, says, “Never buy a fur coat on a credit card until you absolutely have the money to pay for it”? Well, the moral of Tuesday’s post was never become emotionally attached to a shelter dog until you are absolutely sure he is coming home with you. Because finding out someone else adopted him before you could work out all of the logistics is heartbreaking.
But I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. And in this case, I think we were meant to go through the adoption application process for that puppy and then lose him so that we could find the puppy who was truly ours. Which we did. The next morning. It all happened so quickly. Like, disconcertingly quickly, actually. On Tuesday, I didn’t have a dog. And on Wednesday, I did. And oh my god, am I in love.
World, I’d like to introduce you to Fitzwater the Wonder Puppy, or Fitz for short.. He is part Beagle, part Terrier, and all spaz. He is 8 months old, happy, silly, and a baby genius. Within 5 hours of bringing him home, Fitz had learned “stay,” “wait,” and “drop it.” He came pre-loaded with “sit,” so I can’t take credit for that one, but he sits like a champ and will wait politely (for the most part) while you’re giving him a treat, playing with toys, or getting his leash on. Sometimes, though, his puppy brain short circuits and he defaults to just jumping and running wildly around the living room. This can also explain that one time he tried to chase a ball under his body and through his own legs. He is also getting the hang of “gimme your paw” and “cuddles!”
He is housebroken (well, minus those two times visitors came over to meet him and he got really excited and peed) and crate-trained, and we’re working with him to stop that awful, high-pitched howl that Beagles are famous for. He is so perfect and docile and sweet that already I am campaigning for Puppy #2. I know that makes me insane, given how much work an 8 month old is let alone an 8 week old. Still, though, don’t you think Fitz would like one of these as a little brother?
I know, I know. It’s like, “If you give a mouse a cookie….she’ll end up asking you for another puppy the day after you bring one home.”
And don’t let the fact that he is 8 months old and can hold it all day in the crate while I’m at work fool you. Bringing a dog of any age into your life is ridiculous and all-consuming. On Saturday I left him alone for 3 minutes to get dressed and found him eating a box of matches. The irony of that situation is that the matches were out in the first place because oh my god, puppy farts are perhaps the worst smelling things of all time. Gone is our care-free ability to sleep in late on weekends or go out for dinner and drinks after work, forever to be replaced with tending to this little guy:
I couldn’t be more psyched.
So yes! I am so glad I could give you a good home, little Fitz. I’m so happy I found you.