The Puppy Diaries: Raising a Dog Named Scout Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the commercial brands with these labels sold in supermarkets are fine for dogs, since almost all dog foods are made from the by-products of human food production. Paying attention to the basic ingredients is also advisable, she said.
    It seems that almost every aspect of dog ownership has fierce, partisan battles lurking just below the surface. Perhaps the most contentious issue is whether a would-be dog owner should get a new dog through pet rescue and adoption or from a breeder. Upon hearing that Henry and I were getting a purebred puppy, several of our friends reacted as if we were buying a Hummer and thus doing something fundamentally bad for society. Cornelia had volunteered at a local animal shelter in Virginia, and we all understood that many dogs needed to be rescued and adopted. The horrified reactions seemed extreme.
    Even dog toys provoke raging debates. We planned to put one of Cornelia’s old stuffed animals in the crate to keep Scout company, fearing that she would
be lonely once she was separated from her littermates. But nowadays, we were told, these are considered taboo because the synthetic stuffing could harm dogs if swallowed. Petco now offers flat plush toys without stuffing, but they look about as fun and reassuring as paper bags.
    I tried to resist both the specious advice and the clever marketing ploys, but I wasn’t entirely successful. During our shopping spree at Petco, I discovered that I liked the smell of Halo dog shampoo, which costs eighteen dollars for a sixteen-ounce bottle—a lot more than I pay for my own shampoo. While we stuffed our bags into the car that morning, I was still trying to figure out how our tab had come to four hundred dollars.
     
     
    As we counted down to the big day, we felt jittery and underprepared, as if we were waiting for the arrival of a new baby. We knew that once tiny Scout was in our car, there would be no turning back.
    When the day for pickup finally came, Henry and Will drove up to Thistledown while I stayed behind in Connecticut making final preparations. A little after three o’clock, Henry pulled into our driveway and there she was, a white ball of fluff resting in the
backseat of our Subaru on an ancient Superman towel from Will’s toddlerhood. Picking her up, I put Scout on the lawn and she padded toward the house. Halfway to the door, she squatted to pee. We clapped in jubilation, and we could scarcely believe our good fortune when she repeated this same routine a few hours later.
    Scout seemed to be more than partly housebroken, an unanticipated gift from Donna. It was hilarious watching her trot out the back door onto the lawn; since her back legs were taller than the rest of her, she looked like she might topple over, which she sometimes did. She would scamper a ways and then randomly plop down. Scamper then plop, her legs betraying her as often as they propelled her forward.
    Now that Scout was finally home, none of us could stop picking her up to cuddle. I had forgotten how much having a new puppy is like having a new baby. Besides looking for any excuse to inhale that irresistible puppy smell, I felt a reflexive urge to cover the top of Scout’s soft head with kisses. It is actually very important for a new puppy to get used to being handled, but I admit that I wasn’t kissing and cuddling with her because I knew it was the right thing to do.
    Just as I did when our children were little, I made up lullabies with silly lyrics and then sang to her when she cried before sleep. I also felt the unparalleled joy
of seeing her tired eyes close, although she would invariably wake again in the middle of the night. Henry, ever the hero, slept next to Scout’s crate so that he could hear her stir when she needed to go outside to relieve herself. More than fifteen years had passed since we had performed this routine with Buddy, and we were rusty.
    Scout woke every morning at six on the dot. She immediately started crying and whimpering, but she