Things Considered

As we approach D(og)-Day, there are many things we need to put in order, to consider, to decide upon before the arrival of perro nuevo. Why Parker has suddenly become Spanish, I can not say, but it is a small part of his heritage (just not enough to count on a census).

First, we have considered and decided upon what crating option we will use for our new guy. He will proudly continue a time-honored human tradition of using the cast offs of his older siblings. Parker will happily bunk up in Ripken's old crate. I say "happily," but I can only hope that is true. Having never had to wear hand-me-downs (since my brother was younger and smaller than I) from my sibling, I can't imagine how he will really feel about it. I have worn plenty of my father's old clothes, so maybe I do have some insight, but....

Next, what about feeding? Most "experts" suggest a) feeding the dogs in separate rooms (check) and b) feeding the older dog first (we can do that). So, we have that taken care of. Of course this also brings up the point, yet to REALLY be acknowledged, that two dogs will double our animal expenses: twice as many vet bills, twice as much food (at least...a puppy eats a lot of food), two leashes, two collars, twice the number of dog beds (at least to start--we don't want Ripken feeling like Parker is totally horning in on all of his territory from Day One), etc.

Lastly, what about the steps? This is a thorny issue, since it appears that Ripken is more and more getting to a point where the steps will sooner or later become a big deal for him to go a) up, b) down, and/or c) both up and down. They're hardwood, a bit slippery. Will little Parker be able to climb the steps with both a flair and in safety? I don't know. But, I do know this: I am more and more getting to a point where carrying a dog a) up, b) down, and/or c) both up and down a set of stairs is enough to send me to an ER. I can't carry two dogs.

Possible solutions:

One: turn the sun room into a bed room. I didn't expect this to happen until Monkey and I were well into our 90s, so I am just going to nix this idea, right now.

Two: carpet runners on the stairs. Ummmm, no. Clearly these steps were carpeted at one time. That time was 1976. I lived through the mass carpetings and wall paperings of that era. I am not about to go all retro on that decor nostalgia. What next? Metal avocado cabinets in my kitchen? No offense if you have carpet runners on your stairs or metal avocado cabinets in your kitchen. Like Rodney D says in Caddyshack: "It looks good on you, though."

Three: take a pill and let things develop. Yup. That's what Ima gonna do.

Home hospital bed photo from Richardson Classifieds (http://richardson-texas.olx.com/)

A Change of Plans

After further consideration and mathematical perambulations, Monkey and I have decided to delay our administration of the puppy Wonderlic testing from this Sunday to Friday, April 9. This will ensure that the puppies are developed enough to demonstrate their true personalities and penchants--at least far more than they could do at present (even the breeder admits that, right now, they are "peas in a pod"--and I don't want no peas), and it will allow the breeder to get the ball rolling on the other puppies, since we have been guaranteed "pick of the litter." Apparently, the breeder has people picking puppies up on the weekend of the 10th. That puts the puppies at about seven weeks, which seems early to me, but, that's just me. As far as our plan, Monkey and I will not bring a puppy home until the next week, the 17th.

Of course, as this current adjustment bears out, things might change, as far as dates and such are concerned. But, of course, I will keep you posted.

Who's It Gonna Be?

So, we are heading to Fremont on Sunday to spend some time with the puppies and determine which one we would most like to call our own. On the surface, considering the innate cuteness of a puppy, that would seem like a hard choice to make, but a few factors will help to determine which of these month-old bundles of fur will proudly wear the name of Parker.

Obviously, the dog will have to look healthy. His fur should be clean and shiny, his eyes should be clear, his nose should not be running. He should breathe clearly. Plus, he should be friendly, rather than shy; active, rather than lethargic; solid, rather than thin. He should be relatively submissive (we don't need any competition for alpha dog in the Monkey House), but not so unprepossessing that he doesn't have a little personality. And, I guess the only way to really figure all that out (besides some scientifically-developed puppy aptitude tests--they're out there), is to spend some time with the dogs and see what happens.

The tricky part of that is that we will be picking from two litters. Part of our job of eliminating unlikely candidates is done by gender. We want a male dog, so that eliminates the puppettes. We want a black Lab, so that eliminates the yellows and the chocolates in these multi-colored litters. I think that leaves us about eight dogs to pick from. Again, not an easy task. I am a bit worried.

What if we pick the wrong one? What if we get duped by some uber-cute rascal of a dog who winds up making that movie dog look like Asta by comparison? What if we introduce a complete nut job to our house, who refuses to be house-broken, refuses to play nice with his older sibling, and refuses to stop eating things that he shouldn't be eating? What if he eats my ATM card? Or, worse yet, what if we get attached to a yellow or a chocolate? That would make our choice that much more complicated, and will that be okay? Well, of course it will. We will choose the right dog. We will train him well. Everything will be fine. But, if I have learned anything in all my years, it's this: you NEVER know what will happen.

Photo taken from Deez Labs (http://www.deezlabs.com).

The Prologue

This is Ripken. He's 10. Monkey and I have decided it's time to get another dog. This was a difficult decision for us to make. Neither of us has ever been a part of a two dog household. We don't know what the mayhem of two fairly active dogs will be like (we have had vicarious experience with multi-dog households, and most of those experiences have been...exciting).

We also worried about how Ripken, our faithful, loving, and super-sweet companion of a decade would take to a new recipient of our love and care. We know that Ripken's demeanor is such that he will most likely be good with another dog, but we wouldn't want him to feel jealous or resentful of a puppy.

But, I knew that Monkey would want to get a new puppy when Ripken was no longer with us, and I knew that I didn't want to get a new puppy when Ripken was no longer with us. It seemed to me that if we waited for the loss of one dog to obtain another that we would, in a way, be replacing the former dog with the new dog. I didn't want to feel that way. So, after much debate, we decided that we would get a new puppy, now.

Ripken is ten. He is mature enough to maintain a certain calm demeanor, yet he is active enough to be able to play with a younger dog for a little while without wearing down. Plus, he probably spends too much time displaying his calm demeanor. He might welcome a companion to tussle with on occasion. We thought this would be the perfect age for a new dog. Maybe Ripken can have a positive influence on the new dog's training; maybe the new dog will have a positive influence on Ripken.

So we are getting a new dog. This Sunday we will be visiting the breeder and picking our puppy from the litter born in late February. The dog we choose will be coming home with us on April 17 (or thereabouts). His name will be Parker.

Why Parker? Well, we just thought it was a cool name. It is short for Peter Parker, the regular kid who, through a radioactive spider bite, becomes your friendly neighborhood crime fighter, Spiderman. Ripken, of course, is named after Cal Ripken, probably my all-time favorite Baltimore Oriole. Spiderman, on the other hand, while being a highly admirable character, isn't a particular favorite of mine. I love baseball, so Ripken came naturally as a dog's name, I guess. I don't love comic books. But, through a decade of hypothetical dog-naming sessions (this seems to have been in the works for a while), Monkey and I both settled on Peter Parker as the name we liked the best. Maybe it's the alliteration.

At any rate, on Sunday, the name will meet the dog, and something will be fatefully sealed. Three weeks later, we'll be knee deep in puppy training, and this will be the place where I will keep track of every moment I can remember to type out.

Stay tuned!