Feeling the love

I wasn't the only one who fell for Nadine's adorable mug. I started posting pictures of her on Facebook and a lot of love was thrown at Nadine immediately. My friend Katie accidentally gave Nadine her first nickname when she left out the "n" in her name: Nadie. Nearly everyone gushed over this crazy pup with the wonky face. A few also seemed to think I was nuts. I wasn't denying it.

After four days, Nadine was just barely coming out of her shell. I still hadn't heard a peep from her - no barking or crying at all. I blocked off the hallway and bathroom, as the only tiled areas in the house that I didn't mind getting peed on, and she lived there while I was at work.  It was not the best arrangement, but I sure was glad I had never got around to bringing all those boxes of donations to Brown Elephant - they were the perfect containment field! I think Scotty would be proud.

I was anti-crating for her because I really didn't think she'd take it all that well. She had spent a lifetime in a crate at the puppy mill and I wanted to give her a new freedom. That said, I was starting to think a crate might be the only way I could housebreak her, given my work schedule. We were into day four and she was still not seeing the great outdoors as her chamber pot.

Nadine had her first vet appointment that weekend, so we trekked up to get her tires kicked. Unlike me, who walks everywhere, Nadine was not into self-locomotion. I carried her pretty much the entire mile and a half. On the way, a woman walking a small dog saw me carrying Nadine said to me, "Walked too far, huh?" Over-estimations of attainable distances must happen a lot with people and their little dogs. I also had to accept that people were going to give me and my dog many funny looks in our new life together. After all, shih tzus are toy dogs and there is a bit of a stereotype of toy dog owners. Of being a little crazy. Not as crazy as those parents on Toddlers & Tiaras, but perhaps with the potential.

In any case, most people that day and ever since only stop me on the street to fawn over Nadine and not make fun of her. Everyone at the vet office loved Nadine from the minute we walked in too. When I had made her appointment, I explained her history over the phone and the receptionist told me the vet would wave her exam fee because she was a rescue dog. With that, I had a good feeling about this place. I met the vet tech and primary vet and liked them both and Nadine seemed to as well. It was apparent during the exam that Nadine was used to being poked and prodded. The only thing she shied away from was the teeth exam. I continued to be amazed at how calm and docile she was.

She was going to need a follow-up shot from the series she had at Anti-Cruelty Society and a preliminary examination of her teeth, which I already knew from ACS would need a serious cleaning. They also told me I would have to get a sample of her urine because they couldn't get any. She had emptied out in my hallway that morning and there was nothing left. There's no way around it - getting a pee sample from your dog is like catching your skirt in your tights during intermission and walking back to your seat in the front row. Embarrassing. Just another reason to avoid thongs, in my opinion. We walked out with her box of heartworm meds, flea meds, and a syringe for sucking up pee.

All I need is this purple bedazzled collar and that's all I need

Oh but I could be worse. Certainly, I could! "How so?" you ask? How about if I drag this disoriented, sick pooch to PetSmarCoDepot! Surely she will enjoy walking around and smelling all of the wonderful doggie smells, right? The drive to the store with windows to look out of will be fun, no doubt! Yes, this is an excellent idea. (Self-Deceit Girl!!)

Dreams of training Nadine to ride in the basket of my bike were a little ways off yet, so Melissa drove us to the store for our shopping spree. The shivering, shaking pup in my lap was a quick sign that this was maybe not the best idea, but I was convinced she would have a ball at the store and she would realize that it would all be worth it. This place has got to be to dogs what American Girl place is to a 9-year-old, right? She'll love it, absolutely. Right?

Not right. She had no interest in exploring the odoriferous world of the pet store. I had to carry her the entire time. I started wondering if they sold doggie bjorns. (They do, sort of.) If I was going to be carrying this dog everywhere, I was going to have to grown an extra arm. Now I understood why Paris Hilton carries her dog in her purse. When your only apparent job is shopping, you must have both arms free!

I wanted her to try out a dog bed to see what size was best. I pulled one off the shelf onto the floor and placed Nadine in it. Kind of. She collapsed into it with her butt in the air and head flat on the ground - the pose dogs often take when their person has put clothing on them and they will now no longer move one inch until said garment has been removed and a large treat has been provided. Nope, bed-testing wasn't in the future either, so I just picked the one underneath my prone dog. Toys were placed on the floor to play with and nary a sniff was taken. Only one orange halloween doggie toy was given even a sideways glance - so I snapped it up immediately. Soft foods and treats were dumped in the cart, puppy pads and a holder for training, leashes and jackets, a travel crate, food bowls, anything and everything I thought I ever might need was purchased. Minus a high chair and pack-n-play, I might as well have outfitted a nursery.

Home to test out the new stuff, this time with a slightly less nervous dog on the floor of the car next to my feet, Nadine immediately went into the bathroom to lay down in her new bed. I guess this one doesn't want to have a fashion show then? No runway-walking of the new collar? Sitting on the floor, looking at my tuckered-out pooch, how much I had put her through in the past 24 hours sunk in. "What a heel I am to have dragged her to the store," I thought.

Unfortunately for her, her ordeal was nowhere near over, as my mom was coming in just 3 days to whisk her off to the great state of Michigan...


On a brighter note, she still loves that bed we got and orange doggie is her crate buddy. So, while I may not know what I'm doing a good portion of the time when it comes to Nadine, at least my shopping skills are spot-on.

Pardon Mr. Pol Pot, but how do you take your tea?

"I have a dog! Holy crap!" were my first thoughts when I woke up the next morning, as it was the 7 times I woke up during the night. All the time, Nadine seemed just fine. No barking, no whimpering, no noise at all. Kind of odd, really, that she had yet to make a sound. What she did make during the night was a puddle on the bathroom rug. Not a big surprise and, like the mother of a newborn, I was just glad she went. I was stopped from my paper towel-absorbing by an image of myself and an excel document, recording Nadine's poos and pees to monitor normalcy. Oh my. I'm sure, I told myself, that while I might go overboard, I certainly won't go that far. Would I? Even though I am writing this a few months later and I still haven't gone that far, I know better than to say never. I learned this fine lesson from my friend Sara, who once said, "I will NEVER have a cell phone, minivan or live in the suburbs!" (While the cell phone was inevitable for all of us... for Sara, the other two turned out to be as well.)

After two failed attempts at taking her business outside, no doubt because she had already gave at the office, I had to get to work. I was already an hour late and, since I was taking a two-week vacation in a few days, I couldn't call in.  My home was in no way dog-proof and I was now seeing it with very different eyes. Potentially poisonous plants! Evil electrocuting cords! Slopey shelves with scull-smashing pottery! Everything was dangerous which meant Nadine was going to spend her first day in my house closed up in the bathroom. "I am the worst pet owner ever," I told myself, horrified that I ever thought I could have a dog. Less than 24 hours and I'm locking her up in this teeny room all alone, not even with a toy.

Speidi, The Situation, that Duggar family and their inability to avoid copulation for a few days out of the month? It horrifies me that people like this have a platform in the media to promote reckless, selfish, and irresponsible behavior. The only people who are worse are those giving them the platform and providing a salary on top of it. Yet on that day, I had them beat with a one-two punch for worst person ever.

Nadine curled up on the towel I had put down and just looked at me with those eyes. What is it with dogs and their unbelievably guilt-inducing eyes? "No matter what I do, it's better than what she had," I say out loud as I close the door.

Wine lifts spirits, if not legs

My parents have a gorgeous home. Really, it's crazy beautiful and reflects their personality and aesthetic. It looks like they had an architect design it for them, but it was 90% finished when they first saw it. It's prairie style (even the house numbers are the Frank Lloyd Wright font) and hidden away in the woods even though they live within the city limits of Grand Rapids. Perfect for them. Not perfect for The Dog Who Pees.

So, when the ACS woman said Nadine wasn't housebroken and I acted like that was not even a blimp on my concerns-radar, I was clearly insane. One of my positive/negative traits is that once I set my mind to something, I do it (unless it's a craft project - those I have unfinished by the sewing basket-full). I had in mind head that I was getting this dog, no matter what. I didn't think much about her having accidents in my house - rugs are easily cleaned, hardwood mopped up - but my parents' house was another story.

I didn't have much time to think about it, or retract my statement, because the next thing I knew the interviewer said, "Ok, everything looks good. We can move forward with the adoption!" Huh? It's only been five minutes? Wait! How can it be this easy? Don't you want to make sure I'm not some crazy dog hoarder or getting her as a bait dog or person from an animal testing lab or something? I'm not prepared!!

I guess they could tell I was within the acceptable bounds of a nut-job, because 15 minutes later I had Nadine in my arms and was picking up food from the ACS store while the front desk women "ohhhed" over Nadine. My theory is that they were just so glad to have found someone to take an older dog with health issues that they weren't about to let me get away by giving me time to think too long about it.  I'm no hero here, but understandably many folks won't adopt an older dog. They generally have more health issues and won't be with you as long, of course. But as if I was going to leave Nadine alone in that cage?!

I packed up my two bags of supplies to get me through the next couple days before dropping the big bucks at PetSmarCoDepot. Paid my bill and walked out with a dog. Just like that Melissa said I would.

Caught a cab home with a shivering dog on my lap. I was expecting her to piddle on me in the cab, which would cause the driver to kick me out on Lake Shore Drive, leaving me with wet pants and standing the side of the highway. Images of adopting a dog usually show a dog more excited than he can stand, licking the skin off his new person, with a tail wagging so hard he could take flight. Nadine couldn't be more opposite. She seemed miserable and so scared. I knew that dogs need time to adjust and that she had had a pretty wild ride the past few weeks. How would I feel if someone made me move homes 3 times in a month? Unstable is an understatement.

I dragged everything inside and sat on the floor of my bedroom with Nadine. She stood shaking for a bit and then walked to the corner and slowly laid down. I put a towel down for her to sleep on, but she ignored it. I put food out, but she ignored it. I laid next to her, but she ignored me. I put some clothes down so she could get used to my smell, and...she ignored them.

 She has almost no fur, poor thing. This southern belle wasn't meant for 50 degree September nights. But with those bows, she's definitely ready for a cotillion!

She also seemed to have a little cold. Not kennel cough, just a running nose. My guess is she was just unsure and sick, therefore really lethargic. After a bit, we went outside to "do her thing" as my mom labeled it. Not a drop. Finally I sat down. And, while staring at Nadine in wonder at my impulsiveness, proceeded to drink a jeroboam of pinot.

Say what?

Back to the fun stuff...Obviously I was going to apply to adopt Nadine. I think we all already knew that from the beginning. (That smarty-pants, know-it-all Melissa certainly did.) I mean, look at this face!

These were Nadine's mug shots as taken by the wonderful ACS volunteer photographer who's name I never got. (Sorry I don't have your full name to give you credit here. I hope "wonderful ACS volunteer" will do!) 

It was getting late at ACS; Nadine had to go back to her pen and I had to get the adoption process started. While excited, I was also a terrible emotional wreck. I felt like I was getting puberty, pregnancy, postpartum, premenopausal, and menopausal hormones all at the exact same time. This was possibly the most impulsive thing I had ever done in my life. I am NOT impulsive. This was kinda big for me.

I walked Nadine back to her pen - she was shivering again - to find that Doris was gone. The woman earlier was approved so Doris had gone on to hopefully a loving home. Nadine had to go back into her cage alone. It was a sorrowful sight, but I knew it wouldn't be for long. Where I once saw the ACS interview as my last defense, it was now more like that insane balance-on-one-arm-and-hover-your-legs-out-straight-behind-you pose in yoga class that the teacher demonstrates like she's one of Barnum and Bailey's mutant offspring and says with the Joker's grin, "now you try!" while I'm wearing my there-is-no-friggin'-way-lady-I'm-just-going-to-lay-down-in-shavasana-now-you-crazy-monkey-girl expression. Right...so it was making me a little nervous.

Filling out the forms was difficult as those troublesome tear ducts were pulling their Niagara routine again. I was the last interview of the day and holding up the employees ready to go home. "Fine, let's make this quick," I thought. I listened as the family before me was interviewed - it was surprisingly long and comprehensive. Even the little boy was included. I was preparing for tough questions, a long process and possible rejection.

I sat in the small office with my interviewer as she reviewed my forms. Oh crimminy, I'm sure she's honing in on the part about how I work full-time and am gone for up to 10 hours a day. She's going to bust me on that for sure! Instead, she begins by talking about Nadine and going over her health history. Saving the tough part for later, I assume.

"She's an older dog. For some people that's a problem," she says. "Not for me," I reply.

"She has slipping kneecaps, common in toy dogs. They are okay currently, but could require expensive vet care in the future," she warned. "I understand, I can handle that."

"Her teeth have never had care. She'll need a cleaning...it may be costly." "That's fine, she's worth it,"  I answer.

Finally, "We are almost positive she is not housebroken. We have no evidence that she is. Are you okay with that?" Say what?  Not housebroken? But...huh? Oh crap. How do you housebreak an 8-year-old dog when you work all day? What do I say? How do I answer? What should I do?

"Sure, no problem."

Wait, what did I just say? And what is my mom who will, in just 5 days from now, be taking care of Nadine for 3 weeks...what is she going to say?

Oh crap!

A break from our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this important message

Unless you've been off having tea parties, you should be aware of the nastiness that is a puppy mill. Widely exposed years ago as nothing but factories with dogs as machines, puppy mills breed females repeatedly, without concern for the health of the animal or pups she produces. Animals are often killed or dumped at local shelters once they can no longer "earn their keep." Dogs may be kept in wire cages, stacked on top of each other, not walked, not trained, and abused.

As you have probably figured out, Nadine's story involves one of these hellholes.

The volunteer photographer at ACS, who's name I never got, was coming in to take pictures of the new animals who had been brought in that week. Her job is to get a great pic of each new dog or cat so it can be posted on the adoptable pets page of the ACS website. She saw me with Nadine and we immediately started to talk. She was so happy that I was considering adopting her. She said that Nadine had the most personality of all the shih tzus that had come in together and she loved her funky tongue just as much as I did. I asked what she knew of her past, if anything and how these dogs ended up together.

Apparently there is a woman who regularly brings shelter animals up from Tennessee to ACS. There are just so many dogs down there and a very high euthanasia rate - as high as 90% in some shelters. Chicago has all sorts of good people who want to adopt dogs, so she rescues them from, well, death most likely and brings them north. Since all four dogs were together at the TN shelter and all older females, it is likely they were puppy mill dogs. As they could no longer breed, they were dumped at a shelter when the mill couldn't no longer "use" them.

I didn't realize at first that Nadine was used to breed puppies; when the volunteer told me the story, I couldn't quite grasp that was what happened. It wasn't for a few weeks before I understood what it meant, and the life Nadine had led before me. While I was planning to spoil the beejezus out of her before, now I knew I was going to go completely over the top! (Although starting a blog about her wasn't on the list!) This dog had been through the worst...now she was going to get only the best.

Puppy mills shouldn't exist. There are so many dogs in need of a home that puppy mills are hardly necessary, yet the demand for certain breeds and puppies keep these places in brisk business. Pet stores are the buyers of these animals. Responsible breeders don't sell to the corner pet shop, nor is the shop selling rescue dogs - where else might they be getting their dogs from? Only a puppy mill. Sure, there are likely responsible businesses breeding dogs in safe and healthy conditions, but you don't know that when you are picking out your "perfect" pet at the store. The salespeople certainly aren't going to tell you the truth!

If you are thinking about adopting a dog or cat, please choose your local humane society or shelter first. If you must have a certain breed, find a reputable breeder. It won't be as cheap as the pet shop, but you'll probably save much more money in vet bills by purchasing a healthy dog.

There are so many animals who need homes, who will love you for many years to come even if they aren't puppies, sweet gals like Nadine who will bond to you like nothing you ever expected. She was one of the lucky ones. She got dumped at a shelter rather than killed. She and her sisters all got adopted, even as senior dogs. Most of them aren't so lucky.

A nervous first date

With my stomach in knots and not thinking at all clearly, yet with a fierce conviction to meet this pooch, I headed to ACS. Always one to cry at the slightest thing, I was still surprised at how I seemed to have lost complete control over my tear ducts! Since for the past few days I teared up every time I saw the ACS picture of Nadine, what would happen when I actually met her?

Darcy Jane and Myra had been adopted two days earlier, so I entered the dog section looking for two little shih tzus. I wandered around without seeing them, fearing that they had been adopted, when I heard a woman at the far end discussing Doris with an employee. I slowly headed in that direction, but stopped as I overheard the employee ask the woman if she wouldn't want two little shih tzus. As Doris was such a timid dog, seeing the two of them huddled in the corner of their cage together was heartbreaking. All four gals had been together their whole lives and suddenly two of them had disappeared. Doris would be better with her sister, the employee persuasively said. 

Drawing on my inner Elinor Dashwood, I sensibly told myself that if the woman adopted Nadine, it would be for the best. Nadine would be happier with her sister than alone with me. Remember how good I am at self-deceit? I hovered nearby, listening for her decision that would determine so much for me. 

"No," she said! I breathed out, realizing I had forgotten about respiration. The woman headed to the next stage of the adoption process, leaving me alone with Nadine and Doris. 

She was bigger than I thought from the pictures and they had given her a really close clip of her fur. Must have been getting knots. Her cut made her look like a puppy and the green, fall-themed bows in her hair were an obvious (and too-cute-for-words) ploy to spruce up this poor wee thing into a dog a normal person would want to adopt. Lucky for Nadine, I'm not particularly normal. She and Doris were so wrapped up together it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. The room was a racket of barking dogs, but Nadine and Doris were silent. Nadine was shaking. I immediately started getting weepy again when an employee came over and asked if I wanted to see a dog.

If only to distract from my crying, I said a bit too loudly, "yes, please!" Next thing I knew, I was on a bench in the hallway with Nadine on my lap. Shivering and scared, she wouldn't move, wouldn't look at me, and not a peep came out of her. She just laid there, waiting for it to be over so she could go back to her sister. People walked by, question marks in their eyes as they noticed her tongue. One little boy said to me, "I like your dog." I almost corrected him, but then...didn't. I liked how it sounded. I chatted with the volunteer photographer who knew much of Nadine's backstory. After about 15 minutes, she stopped shaking. After about 30 minutes, she looked up at me. Her left eye, the slightly off-kilter one, stared at me, probably wondering what the hell was going on now. I told her, "You are going to have an awesome life now, little girl. I promise."

The most (un)tragical thing

My mom is reasonably down-to-earth. She is not quite as controlled and logical as my dad and I, but that meant I grew up on Jane Austen and Anne of Green Gables, as well as Star Trek and science projects. She can always be counted on for good advice, unless she’s halfway through a bottle of Columbia Crest.

So I figured calling at 4pm would guarantee a sober and thoughtful reaction to the unlikely and irrational obsessive behavior that I was exhibiting. Apparently the moon was aligned with Saturn in Ophiuchus, because I couldn’t have been more wrong. Mom wasn’t drunk, but once I sent her Nadine’s picture, she might as well have been.

I told her the story of my 4-day watch over Nadine, my wish to simply visit her to see what she was like. I reiterated all of my bullet-proof arguments. I tried to convince my mom to adopt Nadine, so I could be sure she had a good home, but that could only be guaranteed if my dad moved out and I had mixed feelings on whether Nadine was worth going that far. (Jury is still out.) I proposed checking ACS when I got back and, if she was still there, that would be a sign that Nadine was my Corey Haim.

“You HAVE to get this dog!” she said unexpectedly. My arguments were suddenly moot in the face of Nadine’s floppy tongue. When I gave her my Spain argument, the one I deemed most Spock-worthy (that is, logical), her reply was “I’ll drive to Chicago and take her back home while you are on vacation.”

Uh oh. I could feel my comfortable, easy world was about to flip upside-down. Tears were starting to pour down my cheeks as I realized I might be able to get away with this. I could have a dog! 4 days of convincing myself that I was only looking at this dog had, with one sentence, come crashing down like the Tupperware in my cupboards. My excuses about a social life and the evils of 7am walks weren’t going to be enough for me to resist those adorable, brown eyes.

I had one last escape – the ACS interview. Surely they wouldn’t give me a dog. ACS is notoriously tough on adopting pets. I work full-time and can’t afford a dogwalker. No, they won’t let me take her. I’ll be fine. I’ll go see her, say hi, and wish her the best.  Why was I still crying then?

I can quit chili-cheese fritos any time I want

Never one to resist temptation (see: empty vending machine row of chili-cheese fritos at work), four days after I first had the less-than-brilliant idea to look at the adoptable dogs page at Anti-Cruelty Society’s website, I checked back just one more time. I had to see if she was still there. At this point, I was certainly NOT entertaining the idea of adopting Nadine of the wonky tongue and off-center eyeball. I was concerned, that’s all, I told myself. Nadine couldn’t end up at the shelter all alone and unadopted, but I would certainly not going to adopt her myself. Yet, I really wanted to meet this little bundle of broken bits. Just to see her in person. But that’s all. Absolutely nothing more.

I called my sage friend Melissa who has a dog herself and is the mensa to my short bus. If anything, I knew she would put me in my place. I emailed her the picture of Nadine and called her to see if she would go visit this pup at ACS that evening. I explained clearly that I only wanted to meet the dog to see her personality. I figured having Melissa with me would ensure that I would walk out sans chien. Maybe I’m a genius after all, eh?

Did I mention I was leaving in 6 days for a two-week vacation in Spain? So really, there was my excuse to avoid adopting a dog that day – just looking, I told myself. (It’s like a superpower – Self-Deceit Girl!) Melissa was my accomplice on the Spain trip and, as someone not afraid to call people out for being idiots, the perfect guard against stupidity.

She wouldn’t even go to ACS with me. Cruel friend! Instead, she repeated again and again, “Don’t go unless you prepared to go home with a dog tonight.” Did she not hear a word I said? I just wanted to MEET Nadine…not leave with her! Sheesh. Whaddareya, deaf?

No, not deaf. As I said, she’s just reeaal smart. She knows that dog powers (e.g. longing eyes, wagging tails, whimpers and kisses) are 10x more powerful than anything Superman’s got. Begrudgingly, I put down the phone and sulked. Fine. I won’t go to the shelter. Melissa’s right. It’s a crazy idea; I’m way too weak to leave Nadine there. I would walk out with her, which is impossible as I’m leaving for Spain in one week! Nope. I just have to be strong and assume someone else will adopt my dog. I mean, that dog!

My modus operandi when I’m sad is to call my Mom. Moms love their depressed daughters calling with piddly little problems, right? Totally. Linda would reassure me and back up Melissa’s wise, albeit very annoying, statement.  Or so I thought…

A brief bout with insanity...but it will soon pass

I was dogsitting that weekend. I'd done it before. I liked to say it was my fix - I got to play with a friend's pooch for a weekend and then, like my friends' kids, GIVE THEM BACK. That was important. The returning part. Because as much as I love dogs and kids, I didn't particularly want either of my own. Hey, I had a dog growing up (another accidental story) and it was great, but I live in a small condo in Chicago. I have a busy social life. I have no time or flexibility to have a dog. Or so I thought.


I still can't say what made me look at the adoptable pets on the AntiCruelty's website. Like Lydia Bennett, I just did it without much thought (or consideration of the consequences). Lots of big dogs that day. Pits and Rotts - probably abused and injured from attempts to make them fighting dogs. Not that it mattered as I wasn't looking to adopt any one on that site. But there were these four adorable black and white shih tzus named Darcy Jane, Doris, Myra, and Nadine...


The next day, after I gave Maddux back to his people and had my house to myself with no 11pm walks to complete, I looked at the adoptable dogs again. There they all were. All four looking as if life had kicked them in the shins and then demanded an Irish jig. They turned out to be sisters and, somehow, they had reached 8 years old all together. There was a story there and not a nice one I guessed. One in particular stood out. At just 10 pounds, she weighed 5 lbs less than her sisters. Her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth like Snooki at the Shore. Big brown anime eyes stared at me through raggedy clumps of fur.


I checked back the next day. I started to think about her adoption and who would appreciate such a funny little senior dog with luxating patellas and bad teeth. No one probably. People want perfect dogs. Dangit, people are such assholes. Suddenly, there I was, bawling in front of my computer at work, looking at this sorry little pup with little chance in the world. Answering reference red-eyed simply didn't do. No more looking at that devil-site! Yes, that will take care of it. Ignore it and it will go away. My favorite method of solving problems, as evidenced by my broken dishwasher, leaky refrigerator, hair's inch-long roots, pile of mending by the bed, drippy bathtub spout, and the stack of undelivered Brown Elephant donations in the corner.


And it worked, until temptation struck again the next day...