The Puppy Diaries: Raising a Dog Named Scout (8 page)
Read The Puppy Diaries: Raising a Dog Named Scout Online
Authors: Jill Abramson
BOOK: The Puppy Diaries: Raising a Dog Named Scout
2.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
But this was an emergency. Right after breakfast, I walked Scout over to Biscuits and Bath on Franklin Street. The chain—which combines unleashed (i.e., no cages) day care with various grooming services—has operated in New York City since 1990 and caters to working New Yorkers with unpredictable hours. Its motto is “Fun, Friends, and Freedom.” Behind the reception area there are two large rooms, one for small dogs, the other for bigger ones. Both are padded in bright blue foam. Cheerful dog murals adorn the walls. The only problem for me was the fee, a hefty forty dollars a day. But in truth, I would have paid more so that Henry and I could both do our work that day, away from Scout.
Once inside the door, I decided that I might as well check out the fees for the grooming services. Surprisingly (to me anyway), they are not so different from the fees at human spas nearby: it costs twenty dollars
to have dog nails clipped—about the cost of a Manhattan manicure—and sixty dollars for a bath and blow-dry. At those prices, I would stick to our home beautification regime of weekly baths, which Scout disliked but tolerated.
to have dog nails clipped—about the cost of a Manhattan manicure—and sixty dollars for a bath and blow-dry. At those prices, I would stick to our home beautification regime of weekly baths, which Scout disliked but tolerated.
Welcome to New York, I thought, where there is a dog version of every kind of human service. At Pawtisserie, dog owners can drink coffee with their dogs and buy them frosted biscuits. In our neighborhood, there is a retired restaurateur who prepares freeze-dried meals just for dogs. To me, this anthropomorphized dog world is both fascinating and horrifying. I thought about Temple Grandin’s descriptions of her dogs during her childhood and how they roamed freely in a pack throughout the day. Manhattan is as far away from that kind of life as one can imagine.
Happily, Fred Holmes, the manager of Biscuits and Bath, seemed like the nicest kind of person. Scout let him pet her right away and, of course, accepted the biscuit he offered. After signing a few papers, providing a copy of Scout’s health records, and forking over my forty dollars, I handed Scout’s leash to Fred. As I watched, Fred took her into the small dog room, where her friend Charlie and four other dogs were already playing. Feeling a tad apprehensive and guilty—we had never left Scout with strangers before—I headed for the subway to go to the
Times
.
Times
.
I called Henry in midmorning and was greatly relieved to hear him sounding chipper. And there was good news, too: the replacement for his replacement glasses would be ready the next day. Henry offered to pick Scout up at Biscuits and Bath; later, he actually showed up a few hours early because he missed her.
By the time I arrived home, Scout was sound asleep. “It seemed like she had a great time,” Henry said. “She just played and played.” Henry had learned that the dog handlers always take their charges out a couple of times a day, and that Scout had relieved herself outside, not inside. He had also discovered that the rates are lower by the month. “I think I’m going to sign her up for the rest of September,” Henry said. “It will give me the hours I need to finish the report.” During those first few weeks in Manhattan, Biscuits and Bath was a lifesaver. Scout came to like the place so much that she would pull hard toward its front door the second we rounded Franklin Street.
Only later did I learn that we had almost certainly made a big mistake by not exposing Scout to Manhattan in her earliest weeks. When I consulted Dr. Katherine A. Houpt, the James Law Professor of Behavior Medicine at Cornell University College of Veterinary
Medicine, she told me that dogs, like children, learn most easily through early exposure to new experiences. Houpt said that it probably would have been less stressful for Scout to acclimate to all the New York sights and smells if she had made visits to our apartment during her first weeks with us. Young puppies, she explained, are open to just about everything, but an older puppy like Scout can find New York City awfully intimidating.
Medicine, she told me that dogs, like children, learn most easily through early exposure to new experiences. Houpt said that it probably would have been less stressful for Scout to acclimate to all the New York sights and smells if she had made visits to our apartment during her first weeks with us. Young puppies, she explained, are open to just about everything, but an older puppy like Scout can find New York City awfully intimidating.
Luckily, though, Tribeca is an unusually dog-friendly neighborhood. True, it’s full of trendy restaurants and expensive boutiques, but it is also filled with lots of young families, many of whom seem to own dogs. In our building, which has eight other lofts, there were three dogs for Scout to meet and potentially befriend. I had already spoken to the owner of a pair of dachshunds who lived on the floor above us, and she was excited about introducing Scout to her dogs.
There are also a number of dog runs within easy walking distance of our apartment. Though Scout was kept very busy at day care, Henry and I wanted to be sure that she got plenty of exercise in the mornings and after I returned from work, so we tried out several different dog parks along the river. Each had a slightly different character and clientele. At one near the boat basin at the World Financial Center, the human regulars were a tight group of friends who said “Good
morning” to me and Scout but little else. “Is she a golden?” I would sometimes be asked. But it was hard for the two of us to break into this cliquish scene where almost everyone and their dogs already knew each other. Sometimes Scout would succeed in getting a dog to chase her, but within seconds a third dog would run over and lure Scout’s newfound friend away. Once again Scout would be pushed out of the play, and soon she would give up trying to get other dogs to play with her.
morning” to me and Scout but little else. “Is she a golden?” I would sometimes be asked. But it was hard for the two of us to break into this cliquish scene where almost everyone and their dogs already knew each other. Sometimes Scout would succeed in getting a dog to chase her, but within seconds a third dog would run over and lure Scout’s newfound friend away. Once again Scout would be pushed out of the play, and soon she would give up trying to get other dogs to play with her.
This dog run is clean and has a beautiful view of the river, so we kept returning to it. Scout’s favorite dog at this park was River, a tiny, five-pound Jack Russell terrier that was everyone’s second-favorite dog after their own. As in any pack, there was also a cool crowd of bigger dogs; Scout would sometimes try to barge into their play, but she was usually rejected. Occasionally Scout found a big dog eager to wrestle with her, but just as often she would shy away from the other dogs and sit by my feet near the benches. She had learned her social cues from a small pack of country dogs that saw her every day, often in both the morning and afternoon. Now she was discovering that, with the exception of Charlie, making new city friends wasn’t easy.
The virtue of dog runs is that they allow city pups to socialize and run around without a leash. But there
are dangers, too. Sometimes dogs are unexpectedly aggressive: tails and ears are bitten, and every once in a while an owner will get hurt by a suddenly out-of-control dog. Because my accident left me a bit unsteady on my feet at times, I was particularly anxious about getting in the way of running dogs. Once we entered the dog park, I usually found a bench and took a seat.
are dangers, too. Sometimes dogs are unexpectedly aggressive: tails and ears are bitten, and every once in a while an owner will get hurt by a suddenly out-of-control dog. Because my accident left me a bit unsteady on my feet at times, I was particularly anxious about getting in the way of running dogs. Once we entered the dog park, I usually found a bench and took a seat.
I was also turned off by the snobbishness of some owners, which seemed to rub off on their dogs. Although our building is across the street from a middle-class housing development, the artists who once filled our neighborhood are increasingly being crowded out by richer types. When Scout and I entered a dog run, some of the people already gathered there would continue talking on their cell phones and fail to offer even a cursory greeting.
Five minutes from our apartment we found an antiseptically clean, shiny new dog run that bore every mark of urban planning, with tidy landscaping at both entrances. But for me the park had all the charm of a doctor’s office, including owners who often stood or sat in stony silence. Because it’s long and skinny, the run is excellent for chasing and retrieving balls, which Scout usually loved. But she had no interest in going there, because it was missing the one thing she wanted: friends.
Finally we discovered that a nicer bunch of people
and dogs frequented the smelliest and least scenic dog run in Tribeca, about six blocks from our door. Often strewn with garbage, it was more than a little funky, which was why Henry started calling it “the funky run.” The run quickly became Scout’s favorite; now, whenever we would walk outside, she would pull hard in its direction.
and dogs frequented the smelliest and least scenic dog run in Tribeca, about six blocks from our door. Often strewn with garbage, it was more than a little funky, which was why Henry started calling it “the funky run.” The run quickly became Scout’s favorite; now, whenever we would walk outside, she would pull hard in its direction.
Located on the same block as the local elementary school, the funky run been there for decades. A plain, flat asphalt rectangle, it offers human visitors little more than some simple wooden shelters and two ancient park benches. Its big attraction for Scout was a large kiddie pool made of rigid plastic; when the weather was warm, she liked to splash around in the water. The other dogs—mainly mutts but also some other goldens—were much more eager to play with her than the dogs at the other parks we’d tried. When the two of us entered the run, a group of dogs almost always barked a welcome and ran over to greet Scout. At last, she had won acceptance in New York.
The owners visiting these dog runs are mainly people in our cohort, aging baby boomers with dogs—or ABBDs, as Henry and I call them and ourselves. We
like many of them, but some are a lot more obsessed with their dogs than we are. They will have loud conversations about the quality of their dog’s poop (loose stool is a challenging problem in the city) and debate whether tennis balls are safe for play (apparently, dogs can chew the felt covers off of them and choke). I imagine that most of these owners were equally fretful parents, and that they are now as anxious about their dogs as they used to be about their kids. But I tried not to be too hard on them that fall; after all, I sometimes worried that Henry and I were treating Scout more like a human child than a dog, and that we were becoming just as obsessive as the other ABBDs in our neighborhood.
like many of them, but some are a lot more obsessed with their dogs than we are. They will have loud conversations about the quality of their dog’s poop (loose stool is a challenging problem in the city) and debate whether tennis balls are safe for play (apparently, dogs can chew the felt covers off of them and choke). I imagine that most of these owners were equally fretful parents, and that they are now as anxious about their dogs as they used to be about their kids. But I tried not to be too hard on them that fall; after all, I sometimes worried that Henry and I were treating Scout more like a human child than a dog, and that we were becoming just as obsessive as the other ABBDs in our neighborhood.
One morning, during a visit to a dog run near the pier where we parked our car, I ran into Julie Salamon, a former colleague of mine at the
Wall Street Journal
who was writing a biography of the playwright Wendy Wasserstein. Once I started talking with Julie and her husband, Bill Abrams, their dog Maggie—a shepherd-chow-ridgeback mix with, as Julie said, “a little Elizabeth Taylor thrown in”—took an interest in Scout. It was almost as if my friendship with her owners certified Scout as a dog worthy of Maggie’s attention.
Wall Street Journal
who was writing a biography of the playwright Wendy Wasserstein. Once I started talking with Julie and her husband, Bill Abrams, their dog Maggie—a shepherd-chow-ridgeback mix with, as Julie said, “a little Elizabeth Taylor thrown in”—took an interest in Scout. It was almost as if my friendship with her owners certified Scout as a dog worthy of Maggie’s attention.
Julie and Bill were in the same boat as Henry and me. Their last child was about to leave for college
and, like us, they had decided to fill their empty nest with a new dog.
and, like us, they had decided to fill their empty nest with a new dog.
“You’d think we would both want the freedom,” Bill said. “The truth is, I like having Maggie around. I believe that change is one secret to surviving middle age and an empty nest, and for us getting a dog is a really good change.”
All four of us are part of the fastest-growing segment of dog owners, over-fifty empty nesters. Curious to learn more about our cohort, I spoke to Kenneth Budd, executive editor of AARP’s magazine. Couples who replace children with dogs are a “definite phenomenon,” Budd told me. “People who are empty nesters but ten years away from having grandchildren are saying it’s time for a fur baby.” He added that baby boomers in their fifties have the urge to “fill the void” for a number of reasons. One is the human need to nurture. Another is our generation’s compulsion to stay fit, which matches up well with a puppy’s need for exercise.
Julie, Bill, and I agreed that watching a group of dogs interact at a dog park and trying to figure out which dogs are “popular” and which are badly socialized or too aggressive is a fascinating way to pass the morning. We also enjoyed the irony that our dogs had helped socialize us, since here we were reconnecting after being out of touch for a number of years. Meanwhile,
Bill regaled me with amusing stories about Maggie’s first weeks of puppyhood, when he walked her all over downtown Manhattan. “Supermodels at Cipriani SoHo were suddenly interested in talking to me,” Bill said, laughing. I knew exactly what he meant. Scout, too, was a magnet for conversations with strangers, and if I had been single and looking to date, she would have been a great ice-breaker.
Bill regaled me with amusing stories about Maggie’s first weeks of puppyhood, when he walked her all over downtown Manhattan. “Supermodels at Cipriani SoHo were suddenly interested in talking to me,” Bill said, laughing. I knew exactly what he meant. Scout, too, was a magnet for conversations with strangers, and if I had been single and looking to date, she would have been a great ice-breaker.
By the time Henry met his October deadline, Scout was a kindergarten graduate and beginning to feel at ease in the city. We still spent weekends in Connecticut, but we were thrilled to have her with us in Manhattan during the week. And now that Henry had finished his big project, we no longer needed to send her to Biscuits and Bath every day, though she still spent a day or two a week there.
Henry loved having Scout’s company while working in our apartment. For my part, the long walks with Scout in the morning and evening bracketed a pressured day, and they provided a much-needed spiritual antidote to the worries that come with the job of being responsible for the
Times
’s news report. No longer did I walk alone through the streets of lower Manhattan, second-guessing the choices I had made for the next day’s front page or replaying a tense confrontation with someone who had been the focus of a story and called the managing editor to complain. Although I always carried my cell phone in case the
Times
’s news desk needed to reach me, I felt almost total freedom from worry when I was outside walking Scout. But my delight in Scout went beyond the pure pleasure of companionship or the joyous greeting at the door that all dog owners receive. Watching her chase errant leaves in the city or dig at root vegetables in our garden in Connecticut, I noticed the different phases of fall in ways I hadn’t the previous year. Even though I don’t love winter, I couldn’t wait until Scout experienced snow for the first time.
Times
’s news report. No longer did I walk alone through the streets of lower Manhattan, second-guessing the choices I had made for the next day’s front page or replaying a tense confrontation with someone who had been the focus of a story and called the managing editor to complain. Although I always carried my cell phone in case the
Times
’s news desk needed to reach me, I felt almost total freedom from worry when I was outside walking Scout. But my delight in Scout went beyond the pure pleasure of companionship or the joyous greeting at the door that all dog owners receive. Watching her chase errant leaves in the city or dig at root vegetables in our garden in Connecticut, I noticed the different phases of fall in ways I hadn’t the previous year. Even though I don’t love winter, I couldn’t wait until Scout experienced snow for the first time.
Scout with her kindergarten graduation medal
Other books
Slammed by Hoover, Colleen
Empires of the Atlantic World: Britain and Spain in America 1492-1830 by John H. Elliott
REBEL, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) by Casey, Elle
Axel by Grace Burrowes
Bare Back by Kuhn, N
The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) by Sam Ferguson
The Complete Brigadier Gerard Stories by Doyle, Arthur Conan
Reunion in Barsaloi by Corinne Hofmann
The Best of Robert Bloch by Robert Bloch
Cameo and the Vampire by Dawn McCullough-White