Bringing a dog home is like starting a new relationship—except, unlike that private equity guy who looked cute in his profile photo but then slept over once and…meh! He was annoying. You can’t just decide a dog “isn’t your type” anymore. It’s like marriage. We should really say vows at the shelter.
“Do you, Human, promise to love, cherish, and feed Nacho so many snackies for as long as you both shall live?”
*Turns to dog.*
“And do you, Nacho, prom—”
Lick! Lick! Lick!
“Nacho! I did not say you could kiss your human yet!”
…
Anyway! Starting a relationship with a dog is a big step—especially in New York where living space is tight and most of us share the same few busy backyards (Central Park, Prospect Park, etc). A dog is not just a pet, they’re your roommate. Together, you’ll meet new people and their dogs, dress up for Halloween, stop for a drink in the West Village. How fun!
To start off on the right paw—there are things to consider. First: it’s not all about looks. Sure, the husky’s blue eyes or the Doberman’s sleek coat might look so Vogue strutting through SoHo, but it’s not appearance that makes a successful long-term relationship with a dog. Sometimes a big dog means lap dog and a small dog is more work. And just because you think the Polish Lowland Sheepdog would be perfect for you doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be the right match for them.
Then there’s the option of whether to rescue or buy. If ‘rescue or buy’ is even a question for you—rescue! There are too many wonderful dogs dreaming of the day their special human—could it be you?!—bursts through the shelter doors, sweeps them into their arms, and drives them away in their noble car to a new life full of walks, snuggles, and adventure.
I also understand that not everyone can or will rescue. So if buying is your choice and only choice—okay! (Are you sure, though? Can you find a rescue version of the breed you want?) If only a very specific breeder pup will do, then do the homework. Don’t be a puppy mill’s next customer! Buying a dog should be expensive. There should be waitlists. Home visits. You should meet your new puppy’s birth parents (if you can).
Like relationships with humans, it’s also easy to have expectations of dogs. I mean, the moment I saw my rescue dog, I thought: This dog has healed my heart from sorrow! I will never feel sadness again!! But: we’d only known each other for one minute. I soon learned that, just like people, dogs can also have unresolved trauma and issues. I wanted a dog I could travel with—take on planes, go on adventures. But I’d quickly adopted a dog I could hardly take on a walk. She’d bark and lunge at everyone.
So, we did what every committed couple does in crisis: we started therapy.
Sorry—I mean dog training!
We started dog training.
The trainer quickly pointed out that Bette wasn’t the only problem.
(Excuse me? Pretty sure she’s the crazy one here!)
He explained that my dog didn’t think I was in charge. Bette didn’t believe I had our life under control, and that made her more anxious.
“WHAT?!” I gasped.
“I am SHOCKED. I am extremely put together and SO CALM! She crumbles at the sight of a box!” I blurted, a roll of poop bags and treats tumbling out of my pocket.
He taught me how to present myself to Bette. No yelling! No panicking! Chest up, shoulders down! Hold the leash this way—with confidence. Be reliable. Be calm. Be someone she can respect! You are the leader of this pack! At the end of the day, I think we get the dog we are meant to have, that our dogs pick us, too.
After ten years, Bette is one of my most intimate, intentional relationships. Unlike human friends, I can’t text my dog and say, “Actually, I don’t feel like going out tonight.” She’s counting on me not to flake. She’s already waiting by the door, staring at me like, Are we leaving? Let’s go! You take forever to get ready.
I grab my coat, and we head into Central Park, past other dogs and humans walking in their own little, loving partnerships. Whether it’s a senior pup in a stroller or a wiggly lab mix, the most important thing isn’t the breed—it’s finding that one dog you can look in the eye and say: “For better or worse, in walkies, treats, belly rubs, and zoomies, I will always – Bette, NO! That’s a squirrel! Bette, stop! C’mon, we’ve talked about this! BETTE!!!!!”
Fern Watt reports on New York City’s canine affairs.
