Puppies puppies puppies

Summer of 2009, we adopted a dog from the shelter, Max. He was a great dog, about 70 pounds, lab mix, wonderful with the kids and very sweet and lovable. But he was very uncomfortable around men. That was the first sign that something was wrong. He would bark and growl at any man who came near us. He wouldn't do it to kids - he adored kids and would sooner lick them to death than even growl, but men were a no-go. He would even do it to my husband when he got home from work. He never bit anyone, but the barking from such a large dog was quite intimidating.

Then one day, instead of keeping him in his kennel while we were at work, I decided to gate him into the kitchen, thinking he's an adult dog and he probably doesn't need to be confined as much anymore. I came home to the drywall in one corner of the doorframe scratched off the wall. It was a small area, maybe a couple of inches, and I figured he was just trying to figure out how to get the gate down and scratched the wall in the process. So I chalked it up to a mistake and kept putting him in his kennel when we left for work.

Then another day I left with the kids to run to the grocery store for about 20 minutes. I figured I'd leave him the run of the house for that short amount of time since I had left him the day before for an hour or two and he was fine. I came home to our neighbor standing at the window and Max hanging out of it, completely entangled in the miniblinds, the window air conditioner in pieces on the ground outside and Max all bloody. He apparently had tried to get out the window to follow us, entangling himself in the process. He was fine, just a few scratches, but we lost the miniblinds and the air conditioner. I wasn't worried about it, because I figured that he had just stuck his head through the blinds, got stuck, and got more stuck as he tried to get out. So I went back to kenneling him whenever we had to go somewhere.

After a few weeks of kenneling him, I figured we'd try leaving him in the house again. I closed all of our doors but left the gate down so he could wander through the main part of the house but not get into the kids' toys. That day I walked in the house, turned the corner down the hall, and saw a 2-foot wide hole that he had chewed and scratched in our bedroom door.

I grabbed him and took him to his kennel so I could keep him out of the way while I cleaned up. Then, as I put him in there, I realized what he was doing to his kennel. He had chewed and scratched and worried at the edge of the kennel, under the door, so badly that there was a hole 8 inches wide and almost 1 inch across. I knew he was chewing the blankets I would put in there - every time I'd give him a blanket it would end up shredded, literally, within a day or two. We went through 4 blankets in the time that Max was with us.

We had a bad case of separation anxiety.

Now, during this time I had attempted to have my mom be my doggy daycare. That was our deal from the beginning - if we got a dog, she would have him at her house for playdates with her dogs if my husband wasn't home. This was also as her health began to get worse, and she couldn't handle my rambunctious dog as he charged through the house chasing her rambunctious dog. It became obvious that my whole plan for having a dog, one that had been carefully thought out from the beginning, was not working as planned - mainly because the personality of the dog we had chosen was not fitting with our family. Max was too rambunctious to be cared for by my mom when we were at work, he was too nervous around men for me to walk him on the trail, and he was too anxious when we left him alone to not cause damage to our house or himself.

So I made one of the hardest decisions I've ever made - I took him back to the shelter.

I beat myself up over that one, and I still do. Hindsight, however, gives me a little comfort - he wasn't the right dog for our family. And it made me realize a few things. One, we weren't ready for a dog at the time. My husband had grudgingly accepted it, but wasn't at all happy about it and Max's destroying our belongings made him very angry. Two, a shelter dog was not what we needed. I thought I was doing the right thing, adopting a grown mutt and not a puppy, from the shelter and not a breeder, finding one who was sweet and lovable. But the truth was, the few minutes you spend in a room with a dog at the shelter doesn't tell you everything you need to know about a dog. I needed to know more.

Fast forward to a year and a half later. It took me at least a year after Max to start thinking about another dog. It has been almost 5 years since my baby-before-I-had-babies, Lacey, died of cancer, and I knew I couldn't go much longer without another dog. I had already waited 4 years and 2 kids before Max for a reason. I adopted him in the summer when I would have time to train him; I knew I was done having kids and both of them were amazing with animals; I adopted an adult dog because I knew puppies were hard work; plus I had my mom to be my doggy daycare. It seemed like the perfect situation. We just didn't have the perfect dog. So a year after Max, I started thinking about it again.

I did my research. I started looking at different breeds, trying to find one that would fit. I was looking for a laid-back, snuggly, easy-to-train smaller (not small - 20-30 pounds) dog without a lot of hair. I knew it had to have energy for my kids, but also be a couch potato for when I needed to chill in the evenings. It had to travel well and be able to go with us wherever we could take it. And it also had to be ok with being kenneled when we were gone for any length of time.

With a list that specific, I realized I could no longer be looking at a shelter dog. There were too many variables and unknowns. Which was heart-wrenching, honestly, because I have always said I would never own anything but mutts. And it kills me to pay a breeder when I could be saving a life. But our family is ready for a dog, and to be fair to us and the dog, I knew I had to be more careful in our selection.

During my casual looking, someone I knew asked about Lacey, and I described her as a mutt who looked like a longhaired whippet. That sparked something, so I started researching whippets. And then, on a whim, I did a google search on longhaired whippets. Lo an behold, the breed actually exists. They do look a lot like my previous dog (although she was all mutt). I started corresponding with a breeder to learn more about them, and casually asked if they knew of any puppies who might be available in the summer of 2011. She said no, but that they had a litter that would be available in September. I told her I wouldn't be interested because that was the beginning of the school year and I was starting a new job. She said great, no worries, let's keep chatting. So we did. During this time I also chatted with the original owner of the mother, who technically owned the puppies as a condition of the mother's sale. We chatted back and forth as well.

A couple of weeks went by as we corresponded over email, and one day the breeder sent me a message with an idea. Would I be interested in taking one of the puppies if the owner kept her, socialized her, and cared for her until we were ready to take her? I couldn't believe it. I asked what it would entail - she said a deposit and money for her food until we were ready to take her. I asked if she would be willing to keep her until Christmas, when we would have a two week break to transition her, and she said absolutely. I said we'd take her.

I discussed it with my husband to make sure he had complete buy-in. I started a puppy fund to make sure all of the initial and ongoing expenses were covered. I found a dog training facility close to my work, and nailed down my mom and my in-laws for doggy daycare for the days that my husband doesn't work from home.

This time, after doing everything right (hopefully), I'm hoping we have the right dog. I've kept in touch with the breeder and the owner, getting updates and pictures the whole time, so I know what kind of dog I'm getting and what her personality is. She has been incredibly well-socialized and is already housetrained, and partially obedience trained. She adores kids and is a couch potato in the house. Plus she'll only be about 25 pounds full-grown and sheds lightly, if at all.

I'm hoping we did it right this time. Adding a dog to the family is akin to adding a baby to the family, at least in my eyes. Giving up Max was gut-wrenching for me, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I've taken every step I can possibly think of to avoid that, this time. Plus, I'm in a better place as well, able to handle more than I could handle a year or so ago.

I can't wait to welcome Maya to our family. She's the spotted one on the left.