We feel as though we are becoming official adults. We got a dog. A puppy, actually.
That is the abbreviated version of this post, so if you don't want to continue reading this gargantuan chapter, we won't be hurt.

Since we moved into our house, Nick and I have been talking about getting a dog. We debated on the breed and age and finally decided on adopting a yellow Labradoodle. The only problem: the closest one was in Wisconsin. Being impatient, we checked the internet daily, (okay...hourly), and Sunday came across a 6 month old Basset Hound Dalmatian hybrid, Dottie. We called about her immediately, sent an application, and set up a home visit. (This dog is part of an incredibly reputable Basset Hound rescue organization. Because they are driven by both love of the dog and a need to place the dog in a home that will truly nurture it (this includes buying it a coat and an insulated dog house as well as keeping it indoors all day, following a specific training regime, and quitting your job to be able to adequately foster its social development) we needed to have a home visit that would inspect the fence, the house, and our sanity.

On Sunday, we conceded to their requests; besides, we were confident in our home and ourselves as dog owners. We went outside to check out the brick wall surrounding our back yard and were remedied that a sizable portion of the wall alongside the road had never been cemented together; it had merely been stacked like a brick wall. Even though it was two in the afternoon and 30 degrees out, we bricked the wall. It was cold, and we did a moderately pathetic job. If you stay on the street and only look at it peripherally, it may not be noticeable.

Monday night saw us at Lowes buying a sheet of plywood to use as a cheap baby-gate alternative. We had them cut in in half, only to find it wouldn't fit in our car. After debating in the parking lot, we made a sketchy decision to balance it on the roof of the car, each of us with an arm out the window holding onto the sheet of plywood. We had the flashers on, drove slowly, and felt both cold and stupid.

On Tuesday morning, Dottie arrived and was terribly afraid of us. But she was cute enough for us to adopt her anyhow. She is just over knee high, and shaped exactly like a small Dalmatian. The only feature that shows her Basset identity is her long black ears and one extra large black dot on her left side.

By Wednesday morning, Dottie had skied nervously on her toenails through Petsmart, peed on Nick's arm, and successfully spent the night in her crate nearly whine-free. She was so relieved to see us in the morning that she had several accidents. (We're working on house-training her.) She also went for her first run this morning. It wasn't very long, but we're hoping tomorrow will be better when she gets to wear her new coat. Yes, we are those people.

If you have read this far, try not to think less of us.