Making a decision in getting a new dog–a puppy even–when we knew Jerri was going to pass wasn’t a hard one, it’s just that the timing had to be right. We knew time had to pass and for Lilly to have some meaningful one-on-one time with us, yet we didn’t want to leave it too long before introducing a new pup. Sourcing the ‘right’ breeder was crucial as we wanted to make a choice on temperament and other early development factors considering that Lilly had been the result of Backyard Breeders before being dumped off with her parents at AWL.

Then there was the decision as to what breed we would consider and I dallied with the idea of a German Shorthaired Pointer (I’ve long admired them), an Airedale (I fell in love with a neighbourhood Airedale years back) or research some other breed. But in a moment of clarity (or insanity, depending on how you view the breed) I decided to stick with what I know–a Dalmatian. A few feeler calls to Dalmatian enthusiasts that I respect got me on the way to sourcing a reputable breeder. From there it was just a matter of time until they decided to breed and when the pups were due.

I could bore you with the fine details but here’s the initial dog diaries of bringing the little guy home and settling him in. To start with, I’ve arranged to leave the pup a couple of weeks longer with his mom and remaining littermates. Research tells me that a couple of weeks past the 8 week period makes for a much more stable pup. I am appalled that we see pups in newspapers and other sources available on or earlier than 6 weeks. To follow are the Scooter files.

I return from New Zealand in the evening and PT’s had 24 hours with the little guy and the house seems strangely chaotic. There’s little pieces of newspaper everywhere and it looks like the kitchen has been a hive of activity. PT decided to collect the little guy the day before I got back and so was left a long list of do’s and don’ts in terms of sleeping and feeding from me–which PT has managed well. He looks a little sleep deprived and hope that time with Scooter has been enjoyable. 

I give Lilly my full attention and she’s ecstatic to see me–always a warm welcome from that dog. I don’t want to rush the pup with my presence, however he gives me the kind of greeting deserving of a long lost friend. We’d already decided on a name, Scooter, or Scooter the Pooter as I’ve nicknamed him. Lot’s of names were bandied around. I’ve always liked strong ‘human’ names and I had brought the name Trevor into the mix but strangely, it was nixed by friends and family. Bruiser was also suggested yet that was nixed too. My suggestion of Scooter seemed to be a winner. Scooter was the mildly annoying yet charming and helpful stage-hand from The Muppets. And in a way this little pup seemed like a little charmer and a friendly little soul.

Lilly seems to like his company and I was anticipating that his arrival would amplify her puppy playfulness. PT tells me that their introduction was easy and uneventful. Many friends had openly asked how she would react with a new puppy and I had always believed that she would be fine with the newcomer as long as her routine wasn’t interrupted and she still had plenty of one-on-one time with me. After all, he is a puppy and doesn’t pose any threat to her position in the house.

Although she’s interested in him and happy to play, she is temporarily off her food which is a sign of stress for her. It happens if I go away or if she goes into a boarding facility. It’s even happened when we’ve been late home and have made arrangements to have her fed in our absence. Her routine is very important and I’m conscious to subtle changes. We have an incredibly close bond and I watch every little nuance.

My evening’s sleep was fitful and several times I got up in the middle of the night to take Scooter out for elimination breaks. This is the first time I’ve ever crate trained a puppy and all the books and articles I’ve read have indicated that the little guy can’t be in his crate for longer than four hours before having a toilet break.

The next few days are a blur of getting Scooter up and out to the backyard for toilet breaks, feeding him and making sure he gets plenty of attention. It’s during this time that I actually get to pour through all the information from the breeders. Scooter came with his own instruction manual–no kidding. The breeders have taken the time to compile a manual on the breed, training tips, nutrition advice and everything else under the sun that I would never have expected. Then there’s the Puppy Care Bag they’ve supplied. There’s two kinds of puppy chow, puppy milk, puppy porridge (he loves that stuff), a couple of toys, his next three doses of intestinal worm medication, vaccination certificates and something for me–a bottle of bubbly. I knew these guys were something special when they started sending photos of the litter from the day they were born and throughout the litter’s development. Phew!

I decide to really get some meaningful sleep and rest that I need to invest in a baby monitor. You should have seen the amused look on the faces shop assistants at the Children’s department of David Jones. I believe they may have sniggered when I explained I didn’t need the top of the line product as it was just so I could hear the puppy’s sleep patterns downstairs while I slept upstairs.

The baby monitor turns out to be a great $55 investment in trying to return to normal and uninterrupted sleep. To my surprise Scooter sleeps from 10pm until right on the dot of 6am. He’s consistently slumbered without waking every night since.

The 6am puppy stirring noises see me bolting downstairs to release him from his crate and whisk him into the backyard. For a ten week-old pup, he certainly can hold a lot of pee. Our routine becomes take outside for a pee, inside for a limited amount of play and then PT comes downstairs and takes over, giving him a sloppy feed of puppy chow and then back for an hour into his crate. During this time Lilly and I have some upstairs girls on-the-bed-time.

I’ve been careful not to upset Lil’s routine. We maintain our schedule of a long walk and fetch play. She’s enjoying tug-games and chase with the ‘Pooter’ as well. He’s become her ‘MiniMe’ and she’s enjoying the extra play.

I decide it’s time to tackle Scooter and try to get him into his harness for a walk around the block. He’s surprisingly keen to trot along and often stops for people walking towards us. He has an inbuilt knowledge that his cuteness factor is hard to ignore. Being Newtown, there are a few folk who have an impenetrable shield to his charms. But on the whole he’s a chick and guy magnet. From elaborately attired Goths and Emo’s to little old ladies and crazy men, Scooter is a real charmer. Really, who can resist a happy looking puppy.

A woman stops me and asks what he is. “Dalmatian, yup he’s definitely a Dal.” She’s quick to quip that he has very little spots (true) and doesn’t look like any Dalmatian she’s seen before (yup, Scooter’s a little unusual with that big black eye) and that I’ve probably been sold a dud. Owch! All this from a woman who is walking her nipping monster that is an ‘oodle’ that she proudly bought from a pet store in a mall.

Georgia, a little girl two streets over from me, tells me that he’s a pirate. “Because of his eye patch and because he’s stolen your heart,” she says. I laugh and tell her mum that she’s to keep Georgia away from the Hallmark section of the newsagent.

Within one week I’ve bought a baby monitor, enrolled Scooter in puppy pre-school held at a dog daycare centre. Twenty years ago this would have been unheard of and people would have looked sideways at you. Now it all seems perfectly normal and quite ordinary.