Buyers Remorse ( Our Version)

Well, adopting a dog didn't quite go the way we expected. No quiet, organized selection process. No peaceful, relaxing dinner where we could enjoy our new status of dog owners discussing possible names and plans for our new pet. No pleasant anticipation of driving out to pick him up and bring him back to his new home filled with toys and a warm, welcoming crate that we prepared with blankets and chews. What we had was a hyperventilating puppy in a dented carrying case with rusty hinges that kept the case stuck closed.

Driving back to the city from the rescue shelter we made some quick calculations. We took Route 22 back hoping to run into a pet store before they all closed. It was nearly 8 P.M. so we were running out of time. The first store we came to turned out to be a pet store in name only. It was rather a retailer of fish and bird supplies. However, they knew of a Pet Smart store up the road. We made it there with minutes to spare.

My wife went in and I did my best to keep the puppy calm in the car. I opened the crate door with some effort, not having any three-in-one oil for the hinges. Tiger was curled up in a ball and seemed to be shaking. I rubbed behind his ears. Shouldn't he be happy, I thought. We are saving him, providing him a comfortable home instead of living in a kennel in nowhere New Jersey. Given, the dog's perspective was marred by his pack instincts. Who else but a dog would enjoy being trampled on a regular basis?

Tiger tentatively licked my hand and looked at me with those big brown eyes. First thing we're changing your name, I thought. You are getting a new start. My wife knocked on the glass of the back gate of our SUV. She had a shopping cart full of food, leashes, collars , toys, chews, potty training pads and a portable crate which would be easy for us to assemble. It was $400 worth of dog supplies. So our life together began.

When we arrived at our apartment the doorman was taken aback. My wife carried the dog in and I lugged the supplies. Tiger continued to whimper . I smiled at the doorman as we entered the elevator.

Gus did not welcome us home with open paws. But he was appropriately cautious and stayed out of our way. Daphne did what she always did when she was concerned or frightened. She headed for the bedroom and her safe place under the bed.

We set up the crate in the living room. Our premise was that eventually he needed to be separated from us at night so he would develop confidence and independence. His crate, according to all the dog experts, would be his safe haven that he would protect and respect even to the point of avoiding soiling it at nearly all costs of personal comfort.

That first night I volunteered to sleep with him in the living room just to get him acclimated to his new home. One or two nights and then he could be left alone We were confident in the wisdom of the experts. That first night he was so stressed out that he fell asleep immediately and was out until dawn. On the couch I slept fitfully but felt remarkably sanguine. I did not realize that the night from hell was almost upon us. It was a night my wife would never forget as she had agreed to sleep with Tiger in the living room.

The day was uneventful. I went to work and my wife stayed home with the puppy. He ate voraciously and amply used his potty pads. She took him out nearly every hour but the urge never manifested itself until he got back into the apartment. I came home at lunch and tried myself to get him to use the outside. No chance.

That evening was more of the same. Finally I went to sleep and my wife curled up on the couch with a book and a blanket. I slept soundly after the last night of restlessness.

It is hard to describe what happens to a puppy's intestinal system after two days of stress and eating new food for the first time. I can only attest that respect for the crate as den goes out the window. According to my wife you would never believe that a little puppy could have so much of anything inside of him. It was a constant flow all night. No sooner did she clean up one mess and he would make another. Being the stoic that she is she never once woke me up. She went through all the potty training pads, paper towels and newspapers that we had. She then scrounged newspaper from the hallway recycling bin. She had to visit several floors to get enough supply. The 24-hour supermarket delivered more paper towels. I never heard him come to the door.

" You'd sleep through anything," she complained.

" You could have woken me," I said sheepishly, grateful that she hadn't.

" Tomorrow we get serious about house breaking," she threatened, more to me I feared than to the puppy.