Puppy Love
By John Benjamin Sciarra
Groton Times, Dec 2005
“Isn’t he cute? What an adorable puppy. I just know Mary will love him.” Impulse buying of pets is a serious problem for many people, particularly at this time of the year. There is nothing that melts the heart faster than the sight of a little fur ball puppy wagging his tail behind what appears to be a prison cell. “Oh, let’s just play with him for a few minutes, please?” It’s love at first sight. The truth is, it’s infatuation.
That warm feeling you had at the pet store turns into the warm feeling your living room rugs gets when little Spot does just that: deposits several spots on your rug, your kitchen floor, your shoes. If that isn’t enough, he chews your fancy, expensive shoes, your couch, the corner of the dinner table and the newspaper—before you get a chance to read it. The puppy isn’t out to get you. It’s just following its instincts. You might even understand that, but too often new pet owners become frustrated. Then the worst-case scenario can become a reality. The puppy goes back to the store or the Humane Society. A few pet owners devoid of any conscience will even abandon the puppy in someone else’s neighborhood hoping it will become someone else’s problem.
It can happen to anyone with the best of intentions. It pains me to admit this, but it happened to me. We had just lost our beloved pet rotweiler, Worf, of eleven years. My family loved that dog. He was a part of the family and the most amazing, intelligent animal I have ever come across. My daughter was particularly fond of him, since we got Worf when she was only a baby. They grew up together and were inseparable.
She took it harder than the rest of us and was inconsolable for weeks. I decided we needed to get another dog, but, since we were living in a much smaller house, I decided we should get a much smaller dog. Usually, I spend a great deal of time researching the behavior of the animals, but I was desperate to find a puppy to alleviate my daughter’s sadness.
My wife and I saw an ad for a miniature pincher—actually, a type of terrier. Being animal trainers by profession at one time, I didn’t think there was any animal my wife and I couldn’t train. Why, I even trained a fish. The animal had the same coloring as a rottie—brown with black markings—and it didn’t get larger than fifteen pounds. Perfect! Anyone out there who knows min pins, as they are called, is thinking, “You idiot.” Toby (a name my daughter chose) became my worst nightmare. He even wore out my 2-year-old grandson. I didn’t think that was possible.
Toby wasn’t neutered yet and taking him out to “do his business” was a 2-hour chore six times a day, or so it seemed. I don’t know where he stored all that urine, but there wasn’t a tree in the city of Groton he didn’t have something left to deposit. It really became a chore in the midst of a winter snowstorm. Toby had the attention span of a small child. While I stood frozen in the snow, icicles forming on my mustache, Toby chased every snowflake that fell and barked at the plows and people walking by.
We tried crate training, but Toby seemed intent on urinating on himself despite what the books said about never soiling their cages. He chewed the corners of every cabinet in the kitchen and ate, and I mean ate all the toys we bought—more than most children get in a lifetime. Even neutering didn’t alleviate any of the problems.
Frustrated, I convinced the ladies that Toby had to go and took him to the Humane Society. They made me sign all kinds of paperwork and I paid a fee. A week later the ladies convinced me they couldn’t live without Toby and could we please get him back. I told them someone had probably adopted him by then. Apparently, everyone else knew better and even the Humane Society attendants were happy to see him go. I had to fill out a lot more paperwork, promise never to return him, dealt with the humiliation and paid more money. By the time it was over it cost me over $300 with a new improved crate (that still didn’t work).
Toby has been with us now for four years. He hasn’t lost an ounce of energy and constantly steals my favorite chair when I turn my back. We’ve become great friends now and my wife’s efforts at training him have paid off (although he does his “business” on a pad in a corner of the kitchen).
My advice is: think twice before you get that urge to adopt a pet of any kind. Do the research BEFORE you look for a pet. Remind yourself that puppies are work—hard work. A pet should be a part of your family. Once you make that decision, stick to it. Have your dog neutered. Train your pet to be a good neighbor. Be a responsible pet owner. Your conscience will thank you.
