Andre · Life

New Companion


Last July I decided to get a dog.  I’ve always wanted a Poodle because they are extremely intelligent and easy to train, but I didn’t want to go through the puppy phase and the potty training, etc.  So, I decided to rescue an older dog.  I started searching the internet for local Poodle rescues and found what sounded like the perfect match – a male Miniature Poodle, nine years old and housebroken.  The ad said that the previous owner had developed Alzheimer’s and wasn’t able to care for the dog any more.

So I made arrangements to see the dog the next time the shelter had an adoption clinic at the Tractor Supply in Greenfield.  That’s about an hour’s drive for me.  When I arrived,  I held Andre for a while to get acquainted and ask questions and he bonded with me very quickly.  When I set him down, he started trying to jump back in my arms.  I decided to take him and after filling out the paperwork, we were on our way home.

He laid in the passenger seat all the way home.  I stopped at a Petco to get dishes and food and Andre walked on the leash well.  At home he waited for me to enter the house first, a true gentleman.  Now, adopting a shelter/rescue dog is a gamble.  You might get a well-mannered dog or a total terror.  I was extremely lucky with Andre, he was obviously treated well and had received training.  He stayed by my side the entire weekend.  When I went to work on Monday, I confined him to one bedroom because I didn’t know if he could hold “it” all day.  I put out puppy pee pads and hoped for the best.  Unfortunately, he didn’t hold it and didn’t use the pad either.

The next day, I tried the laundry room and put up a gate.  He chewed a hole in the gate and managed to climb his way out.  This is the way each day went for the first week.  I made an appointment to take him to the Vet on Friday to be checked out.  The doctor said he was in good condition for his age and other than a knee that slipped out of joint periodically (which didn’t hurt him), he was fine.  I asked about crate training – was he too old to start and would he be able to hold his bladder 11 hours?  The vet assured me even older dogs could be crate trained and he would eventually learn to hold it.  So off to the pet store we went to pick up a crate.  After assembling the crate I put it on the floor and said to Andre, “Kennel up”, that’s training talk for “get the in the crate.”  He immediately walked into the crate – yippee – he had already been crate trained.  It took a few days for him to learn to hold “it” all day and even now he has an accident periodically.  But I put puppy pee pads down under the crate and it is fine.



Hey, that’s not your sandwich

Wow, my first post. Should I make some elaborate post, a short-and-sweet post, something to make you think? Why don’t I just relate something that just happened to me today.

There is a Subway sandwich shop in the building where I work. I went there to get my lunch today. The man in line in front of me (we’ll just call him “Mr. Oblivious”) ordered an Italian sandwich, which happens to be mostly cold cuts. I ordered a steak and cheese, which, as the name suggests, has chopped up steak and cheese. My sandwich needed to be heated so it was put in the counter top oven for a few seconds. When my sandwich was removed from the oven, the server inadvertently placed it in front of Mr. Oblivious’ order. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I order food, I like to keep track of it to make sure it’s made the way I want it and that at no time has it been on the floor.  I looked over and Mr. Oblivious is telling the server what to put on his sandwich. I said, “Hey, that’s not your sandwich.”  All the servers stopped what they were doing and Mr. Oblivious says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” Really?

The server grabs his sandwich and quickly adds the toppings. The server then started to remove Mr. Oblivious’ toppings from my sandwich and since I already caused a scene, I asked what was on it. It was just lettuce and onion so I told him to leave it there. He picks up a bottle of red stuff, vinaigrette I think, for my approval. This guy doesn’t speak much English. I shake my head and he starts to wrap the sandwich.  I say I would like honey-mustard, so he holds up the vinaigrette bottle again. I shake my head. He starts to close up the sandwich. I point to the bottle of honey-mustard and say “Honey-mustard.” He grabs the vinaigrette bottle again.  Finally the server beside him says “Just give it to me dude.”  He adds the honey-mustard and wraps the sandwich.

The gal at the cash register is pretty…., how should I put it?  Some of my co-workers refer to her as the Sandwich Nazi.  But she just charged me for a veggie sandwich for my trouble.