on tuesday, september 6, my dear husband whispered in my ear, "i have to run to the bank before i go...i'll be right back". nothing unusual about this: he was on his way out of town, off to visit his family whom he had not had a chance to see all summer long. upon his return from his errand, he opened the door to our front stoop, keeping it ajar.

"honey, this is something you have wanted for a long time. i hope you like him. i know it's a little early, but happy anniversary. our lives are about to change."

i could hear the whimpering and rubbed my eyes in disbelief. he'd done it. i had not a clue HOW, but he'd done it. he brought in the tiniest puppy crate you've ever seen, and at last, i had my pup in my arms.

my beautiful pup. my dream. my little fawn french bulldog puppy. i was scared, overwhelmed. i had wanted this for so long--years--and i had wanted to be prepared. to finish reading my books. to slow down a little. to book my airfare for kentucky or virginia, to the breeders i had researched. to hold out and see if, against the odds, a rescue would finally accept our application, or petfinder would have an ad that would pop up with just the little guy we'd wanted.

i asked brian, "how did you do this?"

"well, i contacted elle, and she went to the kennel in brooklyn with me last monday to check them out. i knew he was the right one. he was kind of by himself....not running around and barking like the other pups. he just seemed mellow."

--heart sinking a little, yet still overwhelmed with puppy love--

it's called trusting your gut. i did not. could not. i was immediately attached.


last winter, i went over to elle's to visit her new pups. they were absolutely adorable. i took photos. i told brian, "you should come with me to see elle's pups soon!" i spoke incessantly of my love for french bulldogs, as i wanted brian to become as hooked as i was. i asked elle about her dogs, where she'd gotten them...."right here in brooklyn!" was her response. furthermore, she told me that they had a few different breeds of dogs at the kennel (red flag number one) and, excitedly, that she believed her dogs were from hungary (red flag number two). silently, the decision was made that i would be going elsewhere when the time came for me to purchase a dog.

yet, here i was. my husband had done this beautiful thing for me....and he believed that he had gone about it the right way: he had interpreted my enthusiasm about my friend's new dogs as an endorsement for her decisions to purchase them from this kennel. he had taken her advice, someone whom he believed to be a trusted friend, an intelligent, knowledgable and well-informed, loving pet owner. he went to visit the dogs first, and he deemed the facilities to be clean. of course, he didn't know that it was not a good sign to have several different breeds for sale (how can one breeder know all there is to know, and truly dedicate themselves, to so many different breeds?). he also didn't know that it was not healthy for the dogs to be in the same room together, constantly being handled and passed around at such a young age, while being so susceptible to disease. he didn't know the questions to ask--about the sire, the dam, their health, the line, the health history of the line, the correct and necessary papers, information about their veterinary care.

the only sign of negativity from brian was his slight annoyance at t, the owner of the kennel. apparently, t was very friendly and helpful when brian was deciding to purchase the puppy...much less so when brian was making arrangements to pick the puppy up. their plans for him to get the puppy on labor day were nixed by t, who pretended that they had never had such a conversation. instead, brian had to run out and get him on tuesday, just an hour before he was to leave for his trip, and in his last personal dealings with t, he congratulated brian on purchasing a female, telling him that he made the right decision. that females were better. (brian had purchased a male puppy).

he was sent home with a barely ten week old pup, his crate, a small baggie of dry food, a baggie of mysterious pills, and a baggie with a single pill that he was to take that day, plus a couple of toys and treats. i gave the puppy the single pill, a dewormer called "drontal plus" (labelled as "dronst plus" by the kennel) which he happily gobbled up with a piece of meaty puppy pill casing. the baggie of mystery pills were flagyl (though the kennel had written "fragel" on a piece of paper). "take every day for ten days". this was confusing. there were clearly more than ten pills in the baggie, yet no dosage instructions.

i stared at the puppy. the puppy stared at me. i loved the puppy. he loved me back. i began to call friends, send emails, send text messages requesting their best male puppy names. i couldn't stop referring to the little boy as "piglet", for he was so tan and chubby and sniffly.