My day

I went to a pet store today because I was in the area and a friend said they had puppies. Now, for those out there that know me, I am incredibly fond of dogs of nearly every breed and puppies make me happy more easily than most things I can think of off the top of my head. Needless to say, I wanted to play with some puppy dogs.

Well, I think I've matured in a way that I was not entirely prepared for.

As I walked into the store (which will remain unnamed here and in the comments, please) one of the first things I noticed was the location of the animals. Now, this is a store I had been to before and I have to say that they changed the layout. Instead of the somewhat-out-of-the-way condo-style crates along one wall, there were six moderately-sized crates sitting in the middle of the store. Each of these had a shelter dog in it, and only one was of adequate size. The breeds I remember clearly were Golden Retriever, Yellow Lab mix, and Shar Pei mix, but there were a few others and they were all big dogs, all under three years old. Two of them were INCREDIBLY wary of strangers and barked at just about everyone that walked by. Three had problems with other animals, and none of them seemed particularly happy to be there. This also seems like a good time to mention that about ten feet away from the last crate was a pen with four 10-week-old male puppies and another ten beyond that were two large cages full of not-quite-healthy cats.

One dog in particular, Jake, was the first I really noticed. As I walked in, a woman was kneeling by his crate. He barked at her, an angry bark that seemed to point to some abuse or aggression in his former life, and she backed away frightened. One of the employees started shouting at him and he turned to growl at the newcomer. I approached the cage cautiously, looked at the name on the top of it, and said, "Hey Jake. Hey buddy, what's the matter?" He looked at me and moved to the door of the crate, so I knelt down in front of it. He growled and I held out my hand, knuckles just barely inside the bars. He sniffed them, calmed down, and sat, looking at me. The employee who had shouted was still there, certainly looking to avoid some sort of lawsuit if I was bitten, but his presence wasn't quite helpful. Jake didn't seem to like him. I put some of my fingers in the cage and, after looking back at what was probably one of the only consistent human pieces of his day (the employee, of course) he licked my hand. He was calm for a while, which I used to look at the other animals. The cats were in bad shape and honestly the only happy animals were the puppies who looked like they had been brought in by a breeder. They had also been freshly neutered, but that's a completely different story (and I fully support spaying and neutering your pets).

I returned to the shelter dogs after a while and spent the rest of my time with one, a beautiful Lab mix named Daisy. Daisy was eight months old and a little skinnier than she probably should have been, but she was growing well and was full of that unbridled puppy energy. She pushed herself against one side of the cage and I started to pet her. She liked the attention and was wonderfully calm in moments. Another employee (not the kind of scary guy who yelled at Jake) approached me and indicated a few leashes and said, "You can get her out if you want. That's the calmest I've seen her all day." I thanked her and did something that I now regret: I opened up the crate and got Daisy out.

She was, of course, rambunctious upon release, but once I got the leash on her and got her into the large play area she was a happy camper. Now, as far as dogs go, Daisy was not the prettiest or the healthiest or the anything-iest. She was a shelter dog, and a young one at that. She would probably end up making some family very happy. She made me pretty happy for the five minutes I spent playing with her, watching her sniff and explore. The time came, though, when I had to take her back to the crate. Of course, she didn't want to go back in and it took another minute or so just to maneuver her inside. I was probably a little to gentle, and it ended up being Yelling Employee who grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pushing her in. I gave her one last look before thanking the employees and leaving the store.

Now, on to why I said I regret doing that. Seeing those six dogs in that situation, being stuck in that big cold space in those stark, industrial crates, crammed in with animals that were unhealthy and people who didn't know what to do with them, I made a decision that I think I will try to honor more than any other I've ever made. I will never personally get a puppy from a breeder. I will never buy a puppy from a pet store. I might take a puppy from someone who didn't spay his dog and has no clue what to do with the litter, but I am pretty much only going to have shelter dogs. I will also likely have a dog any time I can financially support it and live in a place that allows pets. There are too many dogs out there who don't have good homes, and they deserve a happy life with good people to care for them.

I love my puppies at home and wouldn't trade them for the world, but getting puppies seems like a futile exercise to me at this point in my life. Puppies are great for little kids who can grow up with them and if you want to get one and train it that's wonderful. But, please, if you're thinking about getting a dog, go to the Humane Society, check out your local shelter or pound, and consider bringing home one of the millions of dogs that don't have another chance.

This is the Humane Society's national site, and here is a site that has adoption listings. I wanted to provide those, just in case...