No Dog is Free

Clearance puppies ain’t cheap.

A couple of months ago, my husband and I were getting something most folk call, “puppy fever.” We just purchased our first house, we had a handle on the bills, and we had worked out our daily schedules. There was nothing serious thrown around until my husband’s best friend told us about a dog that needed some love.

As the all time biggest pushover, I decided to take a leap of faith and make the trek out to Philly. As I sat in my car, I felt as if I was about to go on a first date. I was nervous, and excited to meet the potential newest member of our little family. Voices in the back of my head made me doubt myself, as visions of not having enough money for the mortgage danced in the back of my head. I still went through with the meeting…as I said, I’m a pushover.

As I walked up the stairs to meet this nugget, I could feel myself getting clammy. I’ve had dogs for years, and yet I was standing outside an apartment door with my husband’s best friend asking myself, “Do I put my hand out first? What if she hates me?”

As he opened the door, a 50 pound lug of a mutt came over to me and immediately jumped on me. Her name was Roxie, and she was free. I can’t exactly remember the next couple of hours, as we trotted around the parking lot of the apartment complex. She was far from leash trained, and as we have found out recently, far from being a listener either. 🙂

I made the game time decision to bring her home with me, with the option to bring her back is she wasn’t right for us. The first night, I renamed her Marlow and she slept in our room. She was very attached to both my husband and I as we tried to watch TV before crashing from a long day. She cried for the better part of the next day, and would not stay in her crate. In fact, she literally BROKE a $100 crate by pure force and anxiety. She wasn’t crate trained either. So, that was fun. My first day as the owner of Marlow, and I had already spend close to $500 on supplies for her.

After having a couple of accidents,tearing most of our office walls to shreds, and stealing my favorite blanket as her own, I decided to take her to a vet about separation anxiety. When I say she would lose it when we left…she would LOSE IT. Most of our wall behind our office door was scraped and torn from 1) getting out of her crate and 2) being in a bedroom for a couple of hours. Needless to say, she doesn’t stay in there anymore.

Anywhos, that vet visit came to a whopping $100 for the visit, and the anxiety meds. (Which we never picked up because I cannot rationalize giving my animal a human sedative.) After a couple of days, and lots of advice from dog owners, we learned other ways to develop a routine with her so that she wouldn’t lose her shit each time we left. After a week or so, we started seeing marked improvement.

After another week or so, homegirl decided to get all fuzzy eyed on us, and start peeing everywhere in the house. Let’s call this vet visit another $150 for a UTI treatment…for a freaking dog. Girlfriend got it bad, and it took well over a week for all of the symptoms to go away. So, let that sink into your carpet…no, literally. -_-

Over the holidays, I worked long hours, and attempted to see my parents in New York a couple of times. With my husband being injured, I felt it best to let Marlow stay at the pet hotel…and JEEZ was that another whopping total of about $300 for all of the stays put together. Not to mention the first time we took her to be boarded and she got so nervous that she went to the bathroom all over herself and we had no choice but to get a bath included, partially because “the other dogs won’t go near her.” By the way, that’s super expensive when they are 50 pounds and over.

I am not exactly complaining about Marlow, because she is a love…I guess, after seeing all of the animals and pets that have been given to children this past holiday, I have to say that although Marlow is tough, my husband and I saw the meaning of having a dog. When a dog is given to you, or a dog is “free,” it’s not. It takes a real fool to not realize that, and this spoiled brat will be with us for at least 10 years or so.




Damn mutts. 🙂


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