Meet Dottie, the dog who found me when I wasn’t looking for another dog.
Long story short, a friend of mine met her at her foster’s house and shared her admittedly adorable photo. I was charmed, but wary of adding a young dog to my household since I’ve only ever had one senior dog. I met her anyway, I’m a sucker, and here we are.
My friend decided she should be called Dottie because she has a cute little dot above each eye. It makes me think of Dottie from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure (“I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.”) so I decided to go with it, even though I realize it basically means I have a dog named Spot.
I’ve been fostering her for several weeks, she was spayed yesterday, and I finalized her adoption today. She’s seven-and-a-half months old, so she may grow a little larger, but probably not too much. She weighed 10.2 pounds yesterday, which tells me I’ve been overfeeding her a little, although she’s still fairly svelte. Her mother is a chihuahua and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some miniature pinscher in her genetic makeup, but she may just be a big chihuahua with min-pin markings.
The cats are...not thrilled. They’re okay with her today because yesterday’s surgery really took the edge off her, but it’s going to be a process getting everyone on the same page. Between crate training, puppy training classes and lots of walks, I think we’ll get there.
She’s only had one training class so far, but she’s clearly very smart and interested in being rewarded for things. I’ve already taught her to sit and take a treat gently from my fingers, which is a huge improvement over the baby shark situation I was dealing with at the start.
And that’s the story of how I became a dog person again.