Jason and I had decided that after Christmas, we'd start visiting the local Humane Society and look for a dog. We were leaning towards an adult dog who would already be house-trained. Yesterday was our first serious visit.
And we came home with a five-month-old puppy.
This is Indiana.
You call him Dr. Jones.
Our plan for yesterday was to go to the shelter and look around some, then go downtown to hit up the library, a coffee shop, and then have dinner with Jason's parents and sister (she's going back to school, taking her GRE today! fingers crossed, Hunter!).
What happened was that we went to the shelter and... dog.
We visited the puppy room first, figuring I was least likely to want to take home a puppy. There was lots of fuzzy bundles of wiggle in there (we saw at least three of the smallest puppies adopted while we were there). There were some older puppies in crates against the wall. Indy was in one of those (his shelter-name was Ozzie, but it doesn't seem to have been a name he already knew).
Jason immediately said, "That dog is gorgeous."
He was also quiet. He came right up to the bars and licked our fingers, whined a little bit, but otherwise was a pretty quiet dog. We went ahead and looked at the adult dogs, but eventually went back into the puppy room to ask if we could take Indy out and look at him.
The Humane Society puts you in a "bonding room" when you take out a puppy; it's a small, square room with a concrete floor and a drain (for obvious accident-problems), a couple of chairs and... you bond with the puppy. They give you a tennis ball so you can play, and are there to answer any questions you have.
(I would like to note here that the volunteers and employees were really nice; our particular guy who helped us was an employee named David. He was friendly, and really helpful!)
Jason and I both knew after maybe ten minutes we were probably taking this dog home. He's old enough to housetrain to wait until I can come home for lunch, at least, so we thought... we've got a chance here. So we picked up the puppy, a crate, food and water bowls, a toy... and got ourselves a dog.
His placard just said "retriever mix", but we're thinking chocolate lab plus pit bull based on his face and shoulder-shape as compared to the rest of his body. He is a little wiggly ball of happy, though. He liked the car ride quite a bit as we went over to Starbucks (because Katie without caffeine is a twitchy Katie), but became really nervous when I went into Starbucks alone and he and Jason were still in the car. We figured that was a good sign that he would be pretty pack-oriented.
(I would also like to note that David told me that Starbucks is one of the biggest contributors to the Humane Society. So when people ask why I buy Starbucks coffee I am going to just yell "FOR THE PUPPIES!" and run away. Or, you know... explain like a grown up.)
We grabbed a couple more supplies (especially dog shampoo, because he is a small dog who was rocking a powerful smell) and headed home. By the time we went to bed last night, we were suspicious that we had a dog who had basically house-trained himself. Every time he's outside, he just... takes care of business, and he was snuffling around the door earlier when he wanted out. He's really social with other dogs; he's become immediate friends with our next-door neighbors' dogs.
We had no issues last night; he whined for all of twenty seconds and then went straight to sleep in his crate and was quiet (and accident-free!) til morning.
We played that dog into exhaustion before dinner. Dinner with the in-laws was lovely; we ate at a restaurant downtown. When we came back, Indy was very happy to see us.
(Yet another parenthetical note, because I am apparently loving parentheses today; so far, he got too close to the cat's face once. She hissed and swiped at him (but didn't put her claws out). Since then he's kept a safe, curious distance and she just blinks at him. She seems to have figured out he's not allowed on the furniture and basically lords it over him that she is. Clearly this will be a loving pet-sibling relationship.)
We gave him a bath (which he was less happy about, but he did hold still for us) and then dried him off as best we could, wrapped him in a blanket to help him warm up, and he went straight to sleep.
The moral of this story, I suppose, is that the Humane Society is awesome and you should brace yourself for cute dog photos. I mean a metric ton of cute dog photos. I have had this dog for less than twenty-four hours and I've already spammed you.
You're all used to the cat photos, so I suppose this wouldn't be too big of a shift for you.
Have fun with that.