It took about three weeks for the shelter to release Bambi. In the meantime, I shopped for toys and crates and bowls. I wondered if this was the right decision. I went to my youngest brother’s college graduation from my own Alma Mater, Ball State University. I drove down to the shelter to visit her on my lunch breaks, and I explained to my long distance boyfriend why getting a dog was a GREAT idea. (It wasn’t. He was right.)
And finally, the day came. On a sunny Saturday May 11, 2013, I retrieved the Daisy Dog. Grant came with me so that he could help make the final decision. He said yes. Looking back, he wanted to say no, but since I was all alone, he felt like he couldn’t. (All the stress from the dog and the distance would break us up for a short time later that summer.) The fee was paid, her name was changed, I put her new leash and collar on her (pink, natch) and put her in Grant’s backseat, which we’d covered with a sheet in case she got car sick. (FYI, Daisy does NOT get carsick and DOES get super psyched for car rides.)
Grant dropped us off on the other side of the neighborhood from the apartments. I’d read online it was important to walk the dog home. It was instinctual. Regardless, it gave him time to do a last minute apartment safety-check while I let her sniff and pull me down the road so hard I thought my shoulder would leave its socket. She was no longer shy at all.
We played with her new toys for about an hour. Her favorite was a squeaky carrot that she carried around in her mouth, jumping around like a maniac. We found out the hall that ran the length of the apartment was perfect for fetch, and that she was already good at it, bringing the toy right back to be thrown again. We later found out that we got tired of fetch much sooner than she did.
Then she slept.
She settled right into a routine that day, and it quickly became clear that she was fully housebroken. It also quickly became clear that she was an escape artist and just pushed at the zipper of the soft-sided crate I had bought until it opened and she could meet us at the front door when we got back from picking up dinner. (We tried the crate a couple more times, but I ended up taking it back the next week.) That night, she slept on a blanket in the corner of the bedroom and didn’t make a peep until I woke up to take her out the next day.