We're Having A Puppy!: From the Big Decision Through the Crucial First Year

We're Having A Puppy!: From the Big Decision Through the Crucial First Year

We're Having A Puppy!: From the Big Decision Through the Crucial First Year

We're Having A Puppy!: From the Big Decision Through the Crucial First Year

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Overview

Who's going to be your new best friend?

Choosing a puppy is a lot of fun, but it's also an important decision. This unique guide shows you how to select the breed which most perfectly matches your personality and environment. Looking for a laid-back, comforting friend? A Saint Bernard or Pinscher would love to stay at home and relax with you. Need a dog that loves the city? Welsh corgis and French bulldogs are among the most cosmopolitan of canines. Looking for non-stop friendliness? Count on a Norwich terrier or beagle to bond as your most cheerful buddy. Active and energetic? Golden retrievers and greyhounds will keep up with you.

Choose a puppy as you would choose a partner-- carefully! With the help of a personal questionnaire, profiles of various breeds and their personalities, and charts listing the main characteristics of more than 100 dogs, with Eric Swanson's We're Having a Puppy! you'll be on your way to proud puppy parenthood.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781466878181
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date: 08/12/2014
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: eBook
Pages: 224
File size: 5 MB

About the Author

Eric Swanson is the author of the novel The Greenhouse Effect. He lives in New York City with his three cats.


Eric Swanson is the author of the novel Greenhouse Effect. He lives in New York City with his three cats.

Read an Excerpt

We're Having a Puppy!

From the Big Decision Through the Crucial First Year


By Eric Swanson, Bob Dombrowski

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 1997 Eric Swanson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-7818-1



CHAPTER 1

Should We Have a Dog?


If you're wondering whether or not to get a dog, you're not alone. Kings and commoners alike have contemplated the same question for thousands of years. Of course, nobody's ever asked a dog whether he wants to have a person, but it's fair to say the attraction between the two species runs deep. Dogs and people just seem to fit together — like words and music, mom and apple pie, Bonnie and Clyde.

Maybe you've acquired a dog already, and you're wondering what to do now. In all likelihood, he's looking up at you from the floor as you read this, waiting for some sign of approval — a pat on the head or a kind word, something to let him know the bond between you is alive and well. If you look in his eyes right now, you'll see something you don't find elsewhere: soul. Unlike most other animals (humans included), dogs can't hide their soul. This probably accounts for a large part of their appeal. At the end of the day, it's a comfort to spend time with someone whose emotions don't need second-guessing.


A BRIEF HISTORY OF DOGS AND PEOPLE

No one can say for sure how dogs came to be the first domesticated animals, but most seem to think it happened around twenty-five thousand years ago. Even the nicer sort of people lived in caves at the time, and though a fair amount of food did grow on trees, the preferred sustenance of Cro-Magnon man was meat — which didn't usually lay about begging to be eaten. Meat had to be hunted, and it's a good guess that people hunted in groups: You'd more likely come home in one piece that way, instead of winding up in something else's stomach.

The wild ancestors of modern dogs seem to have organized themselves pretty much along the same lines. The domestic dog, Canis familiaris, is thought to be a direct descendant of a small subspecies of wolf, Canis lupus pallipes (white-footed wolf), which originated in the Middle East. Then as now, wolves lived together in caves, probably for the same reasons as early man. Caves are warm, protected from the less hospitable elements, and fairly easy to defend. More importantly, wolves live and hunt in packs. There's far less scheming or jockeying for position to be seen in canine society than among humans. Canines very sensibly follow the lead of the strongest and wisest member of the pack.

It's possible that Canine lupus entered the precincts of early cave dwellers as a prospective meal, narrowly avoiding this unpleasant fate by demonstrating the type of usefulness for which their descendants are known today. Perhaps deliberately misconstruing the point of being fattened for the fire, he came to see his captors as a species of stronger, wiser wolf, and instinctively offered the same services he'd perform for his own kind: defending the lair, barking at intruders, and warning off other wolves by marking the territory with urine and feces.

Or perhaps a pack of wolves resided near a human settlement, and lived off scraps of meat and bone left over after a hearty Cro-Magnon meal. Understandably desiring to protect a territory that offered such relatively easy pickings, they would have kept other packs or predators away, and may have even followed their human neighbors from camp to camp. In time, the two groups — humans and wolves — may have grown accustomed to one another, and learned to mingle in a friendly fashion.

Regardless of the manner in which wolves and humans began their happy association, the advantages of joining forces in the rough game of survival became apparent soon enough. In return for warmth, companionship, and regular meals, Canis lupus offered his keen instincts and abilities both for hunting and protecting the settlement. Eventually, through a combined process of selective breeding and spontaneous mutation, Canis familiaris evolved into a family that includes more than four hundred different breeds. Some bloodlines are quite venerable, indeed: the loyal Samoyed hunted reindeer alongside Asiatic nomads more than seven thousand years ago, while the regal Saluki were revered by ancient Sumerians thousands of years before their upstart neighbors on the Nile built the first pyramid.

Archeological discoveries have shown that dogs played a significant role in early cultures throughout Europe and the Far East. Captain Cook observed dogs happily serving the inhabitants of the remote islands of the Pacific, while the dingo has inhabited Australia for centuries. Probably the oldest Canis familiaris skeleton yet found — believed to be more than ten thousand years old — was unearthed recently in Idaho. Exactly how dogs managed to travel from the Middle East to such far-flung regions remains a mystery, but it is clear they have enjoyed a special place in human society long before cats, cows, and canaries.

This high regard for Canis familiaris has been recorded in art and literature through the ages. Perhaps one of the best-known tales of canine loyalty can be found toward the end of Homer's Odyssey — when the hero's dog, after waiting twenty years for his master to return, summons his last bit of vital energy to wag his tail. Painters and sculptors, meanwhile, have for eons busied themselves representing the canine form. Ancient Persians carved images of greyhoundlike dogs on their rich tombs. The Egyptians of four thousand years ago decorated their walls with images of lean, elegant Pharaoh hounds. European masters such as Titian, Gainsborough, and Van Dyke included dogs in family portraits and pastoral scenes, much as contemporary family albums include at least one engaging photo of little Rover or Angélique.


WHAT EXACTLY IS A DOG?

Since before the dawn of recorded history, dogs have served humanity as workers, playmates, and boon companions. They have watched over children, driven rats from home and hearth, protected the widow, the orphan, and the lonely hermit, and defended the farmer's livestock from poachers of both the animal and human variety. Civilizations have crumbled, institutions have fallen away, the humble oxcart has been replaced by the jumbo jet — yet the essential bond between human and canine has remained virtually unchanged. Modern dogs patrol the home front and nip the heels of recalcitrant sheep; they sniff out drugs and explosives; they rescue toddlers, the ill, and the elderly from dangerous situations.

Cynics may deride such behavior as an example of foolish consistency, or a devastating failure of imagination. Dogs rarely believe the worst about themselves, however, and their delight in people seldom wanes. The basic canine nature may be summed up as the hope of love returned in equal measure to love offered. No doubt such loyalty is grounded in a dog's natural inclination to obey the leader of the pack. Yet this capacity to extend allegiance to another species touches on the miraculous, and deserves to be cherished.

Character varies with each breed of dog, of course, as well as among individuals within a particular breed. Still, most dogs share a number of similar traits regardless of bloodline or individual history. These include:

• Devotion

• Trust

• Rapport

• Concern

• Friendliness

• Charisma


Though initially the list of canine qualities may read like the preamble of a Boy Scout meeting, dogs are by no means simple creatures. Their inner workings are as finely calibrated as any of nature's more ingenious creations. Perhaps the best way to appreciate this fact is to examine each characteristic in more detail.


An Unconditional Lover

Like much of canine prehistory, the identity of the person who first dubbed the dog "man's best friend" is shrouded in the mists of time. Few, however, can dispute the absolute fitness of the title. What other creature will listen raptly to the same tall tale fifty times over and never betray a hint of boredom, or lend a perpetually sympathetic — if somewhat floppy — ear to the same complaints over money, the boss, the neighbors, or the in-laws? Who will greet you with the same pristine joy each morning, no matter how your breath smells or which way your hair is sitting? To whom does it honestly not matter what you're wearing when you go out in public together?

Dogs do not judge by appearances. In fact, where their owners are concerned, they do not judge at all. This is perhaps the single most attractive quality dogs have to offer, a type of enlightened vision of the soul. When your dog looks at you, she sees you — not your job, not your taste in art, and certainly not your breeding potential. Nor does she see your defects of character, the secret names you call yourself to prove your frailty. She sees only your glory, your fully realized potential. People have striven for countless generations to achieve the same compassionate outlook upon their fellows. To dogs, it just comes naturally.

A brief comparison with other types of pets may illustrate this point more clearly. Cats, for example, possess extremely refined emotions, yet their entire evolutionary development has been geared toward solitary survival; they will give pleasure where pleasure is given — they have been known to caress and even lick their prey (after it's dead) — but their primary drive remains one of self-satisfaction. Rodents, meanwhile, may look sweet, but they're more apt to bite or scurry down a hole than to rest their wee heads in your lap while you watch the news. And with all due respect to marine life, one rarely hears "cold as a fish" offered as a compliment.

Unconditional love can be a bit harrowing at first for those unaccustomed to its responsibilities and rewards. Even well-adjusted persons may find it uncomfortable to be seen so nakedly, and desired so openly. The human heart is a curious thing, full of secret passages and forbidden entries. Don't be surprised, therefore, if you feel a tingle of resistance to your dog's attempts to occupy the entire organ. It's only natural, and won't offend Sadie in the least. Slowly but surely, she'll find a way to unlock the hidden doors and show you treasures in yourself you never knew existed. This may be the most harrowing day of all. When you realize you love your dog as deeply as she loves you, you'll understand the real value of an open heart, and what it will mean to lose it.


Instant Family

Popular psychology has fostered an understanding that individuals do not choose the families into which they are born. This has not always been the prevailing opinion, however, and even now certain esoteric writers challenge this view. While the issue is not likely to be resolved any time soon, most people agree that family members tend to adapt to one another. In spite of any manifest or subtle dysfunction, a certain trust develops in every family. It may consist in knowing that one's elder brother will always attempt to bring about one's demise, or that one's mother will always exhibit a degree of cantankerousness in the grocery store. Still, family can be counted on to be exactly as they are, and to perceive us as exactly as they always have.

Dogs rarely choose their owners; and no matter how much thought you give to selecting your pet, until the two of you have lived together a while, an element of uncertainty necessarily colors your relationship. Yet in very short order, the same type of intimacy develops between dog and owner as between sister and brother, or parent and child. Dogs adapt to their owners with very little complaint, and in this atmosphere of acceptance, most owners find it easy to relate to their pets with the same degree of familiarity. The comfort that grows out of this type of relationship transcends exchanging solace in times of trouble, or sharing pleasurable activities such as hiking, swimming, or antagonizing squirrels. It's a rock-solid knowing that you can count on each other to be the way you are.

At times, you'll be astonished by the empathy that flows from your dog to you. When you're blue, he may try to lighten your load by putting on a show or encouraging you to play a hearty game of fetch; when you're happy, he'll celebrate right alongside you. The way he looks at you when you're confused, licks your face when you're upset, or huddles close to keep you warm when you're ill, may convince you he is endowed with human understanding. It's tempting to think of your dog as a person trapped inside a fur coat.

More accurately, though, he's a wolf that has kindly consented to conform to human habits. Like other wild creatures, wolves possess a type of sensitivity that has to some extent been bred out of humans. Changes in posture, body rhythm, intonation, and personal scent are significant to dogs in ways mankind no longer notices. More specifically, dogs instinctively attune themselves to their leader's slightest behavioral suggestions, because survival in the wild depends on rapid and appropriate group response. Because you have given him a home, food, affection, and warmth, your dog quite naturally offers you the gift of his extraordinary sensitivity.

Of course, no matter how well you and your dog understand each other, unpleasant surprises will occur from time to time. You may come home from a long day at the office and find the living room sofa reduced to a shapeless mass of chewed foam rubber. Or perhaps, after you've just received your forty-ninth rejection of your latest novel, your dog may have to bear an angry outburst. But the bond between you can sustain such blows. Rex's honest remorse will encourage you to forgive him for the sofa, and your tantrum won't alter his excellent opinion of you. Though tempests threaten, love remains.

Family life requires commitment, however. Harmony depends on each member recognizing that no one in the household has yet attained a godlike self-sufficiency. While most family roles have shifted somewhat from the traditional model in recent years, the essential relation between dog and master has remained fairly constant. Just as you depend on Rover to defend your home, warn against intruders, or amuse Aunt Sally with his latest trick, so he relies on you to fulfill needs he can't supply himself. The precise nature of your responsibilities will be explored later in this chapter. For now, it's enough to know that intimacy — no matter how immediate or genuine — is never a free ride.


A Friend Who Likes to Be Where You Are

It is not uncommon for a pall of dissatisfaction to descend on even the most congenial relationship, once the novelty of being together has worn off. Although this tends to occur more generally when both partners belong to the same species, misfortunes of this sort are not unknown among members of different classes of the animal kingdom. One morning, your cat may simply cease to be amused; or you may remove the cover from Polly's cage and discover, to your chagrin, that your witty, engaging parrot is just another crabby bird hooked on crackers.

Dog owners are less likely to experience the traumas associated with familiarity. Something genuinely profound begins to take shape from the outset, so subtly it may take a while to notice. The day will come, however, when you realize that your dog does not simply love and respect you. She has taken refuge in you: To her, you are home. Circumstances may force you from your dream house to a cardboard box (or vice versa); you may decide to relinquish the questionable blessings of stability and become a merry wanderer of the road; you could, like the Desert Fathers, take up residence atop a pillar in the sands of Egypt. Regardless of the path you choose, your dog will follow.

Many dogs appear to enjoy a change of scene now and again. At least, confronting new territory doesn't seem to provoke the same degree of anxiety seen in other types of pets. Dogs therefore make excellent traveling companions, happily vacationing with their owners in all corners of the world where they are welcome. Naturally, taking a pet along for even a weekend junket involves special preparations, which will be examined in Chapter Six. So long as you're within sniffing range, however, dogs are equally content to sit at home watching reruns, or dozing by the pool. Or simply taking a Sunday drive. Whatever your idea of a good time is, it's bound to be Bowser's as well.


Someone to Watch Over You

As suggested earlier, security may have been one of the prime factors behind early man's decision to domesticate dogs rather than eat them. Yet even in our modern age, dogs still offer their owners an extra measure of protection. Armed with an exceptionally keen sense of hearing and smell, dogs can detect the approach of potential intruders at a greater distance than many sophisticated security systems. Although the suspected interloper may just as likely turn out to be the paperboy as a midnight thief, a dog will sound a rather noisy alarm, regardless. However, since a dog can't be accidentally turned off or deliberately disconnected, even indiscriminate barking has its advantages. Meanwhile, most people find it more satisfying to curl up next to a dog than an electronic eye.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from We're Having a Puppy! by Eric Swanson, Bob Dombrowski. Copyright © 1997 Eric Swanson. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Contents

Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Dedication,
Introduction,
Chapter 1: Should We Have a Dog?,
Chapter 2: Yes, We Should Have a Dog!,
Chapter 3: The Possible Puppy,
Chapter 4: From House to Home,
Chapter 5: The Blessed Event,
Chapter 6: Living Together,
Chapter 7: Last Words,
Appendices,
Appendix A: Registries and Publications,
Appendix B: Pet Insurance,
Appendix C: Toxins,
Copyright,

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