Three years ago our yellow lab, Abby, passed away due to old age. I was about six years old when we brought her home in a cardboard box. At such a young age, I was able to enjoy her playfulness and slobbery kisses without having much accountability for her upbringing. By the time I was old enough to exercise some responsibility, Abby had reached adulthood.
My experience with my beloved lab lingered years later as I considered getting a new dog — a hiking and adventure companion, a nap buddy, a watchdog: everything Abby used to be for my family and I when I was growing up. My parents didn’t approve of my timing, worrying my job and schoolwork might suffer if I got a dog, but I continued to research on my own, narrowing my criteria and finding an eight-week-old female mountain cur/husky named Koda sheltered in Ogden.
The process for adopting a puppy can be long and tedious, with shelters having a fair amount of room to be picky with potential pet owners as demand for rescues has increased. Detailed applications are often required now with responses to things like the name and credentials of your future pet’s groomer, your budget for the first year of care, what methods you’ll use to help your pet adapt to a new home, a test to ensure you’ve completed the required readings and an at-home visit by a professional — all amounting to a fairly daunting submission and demonstration of your competence as a pet owner. But thanks to large retailers like Petco and their weekend “adoption days,” I was able to walk away with my puppy after only a $300 payment, a signature and verbal commitment to take care of her to the best of my abilities.
I wasn’t entirely “prepared” for my puppy when I got her, and I can’t say my parents were for sure on board when I adopted her, knowing she’d outgrow my living conditions and need the sizable yard and mountain access only my parents’ house could provide her with. But I took the leap, spoiled her with everything she could possibly need to be happy and develop properly, set up a vet appointment and made a commitment to myself and her to do whatever I had to do to make sure she grew up right. I don’t take commitments lightly, especially when they concern another life, human or otherwise, and raising a puppy hasn’t been easy.
My dad actually jokes now that he’s become a grandpa before he thought he would, and I think there’s some truth to that. I’m not the mother of a human being yet, but I can draw some similarities between taking care of a baby and raising a puppy. Koda wakes up several times a night to go to the bathroom, eats her pricey puppy chow like she’s been stranded in the wilderness without food for a month, has accidents on the carpet and in my bed, could beat a hot dog-eating champion in a farting contest, chews and slobbers on whatever she can get her mouth on, cries when I’m not around and distracts me from my homework. Since adopting her, I can’t do anything without first considering how my actions and choices will affect my dog. Like most parents, I’ve given up the luxury of going out with friends whenever it suits me. When I do, my puppy is usually with me unless I can find a puppy sitter. Puppy parenting isn’t an easy gig, and that’s part of why it’s so rewarding, but it definitely takes a village, just like raising any baby does.
Maybe the intensity of the detailed application process, home visits, prep readings, etc. amount to a good way for pet adoption agencies and shelters to know their pets are going to good homes, but I’ve always thought that, with something like raising a dog or raising a kid, you’re never 100 percent ready. Sometimes you just have to take the leap and let your instincts and best judgment determine how you raise it. I’ve always felt that if you can commit to putting in the time, energy and love to raise your dog right — and have a little help — it doesn’t matter so much whether you’ve done all of the reading, or even have a groomer lined up at all. You’ll still end up with a happy, loyal pup.