Won't You Bea My Neighbor?

Bea slept through the night, and so did we. She's also regularly pooping and peeing, or as we've been told to call it "eliminating." I feel odd saying that - makes me feel like my dog is a secret agent.

So in 2 days, she's sleeping through the night and can take the elevator without freaking out. That's a quicker adjustment than most rural people when they move to New York for the first time.

NYC is just like Puerto Rico, but with more Puerto Ricans.


We spent the afternoon in the dog park again today. Bea is making us strangely social. We met a few neighbors, including Jacob, a dog owner from two blocks away. He and his wife have a similar background to Sara and I, and his brother is a fledgling standup comic. We're actually going to try to grab dinner with them some time. That is unprecedented for us - we have our friends, but we're pretty much an island as a couple.

If you've moved to a new neighborhood with a dog, I recommend spending some time sitting around in a dog park. It's amazing how quickly you'll meet your neighbors.

The Poop Heard Round The World

We took Bea in to the city again today, since I had two shows near each other. It was a gorgeous night, and we thought it'd be nice to walk around with her between shows. Besides, she's the dog that never poops, so we knew that wouldn't be a problem.

Bea's still stressed in the car, but it's not as bad as yesterday. We open the windows slightly now and she likes looking out as we drive (and drooling all over them). We did have a slight incident where the window lock wasn't on and she stepped on the control, opening the window all the way. I quickly put it back up and learned my lesson - always keep the window lock on. Later on I learned another lesson - remember to put the windows back up after you park. Luckily the car wasn't broken into. Though we could have caught the burglar easily by finding a man covered in dog hair.

You have to stretch before your big day of doing nothing.

Who wouldn't love this dog?

Looks like Bea is getting in the mood for a kiss.

And she plants one.



It drizzled for a few minutes and Bea was fine with it. She's also comfortable on concrete, which makes me concerned about the life she led in the shelter. Getting rained on in a concrete floor kennel isn't the life I'd recommend for any dog, and it saddens me to know that's probably how my dog lived. No wonder she loves our couch so much.

After the shows, Sara was freaking out because Bea had gobbled up a piece of a cooked chicken bone she found on the street. I was relieved that the first dangerous thing that happened to our dog was not my fault, since I was sure it would have been. Though I was the one who forgot to put the window lock on. So, nevermind.

I was also glad that Sara knows enough about dogs that when they swallow a cooked bone, you feed them white bread to cushion the bone in their stomach. Once they poop out the bone, they'll be fine. You know, if they ever poop.

Actually, that happened about 20 minutes later. Not the chicken bone. That should come out next time she poops. Which, on this pace, will be in a month. I have never been so excited to watch an animal shitting. I am also terrified to think there are probably websites dedicated to that.

When we got home, we covered the floor of the bedroom with sheets and Snuggies to eliminate Bea clopping around like last night. Yes, we have Snuggies. They were gag gifts from my brother. Or maybe he just assumed we were going to eventually be fat and lazy enough to need them. By the way, Snuggies are super soft to walk on. There is a big market for fleece carpet. I'd invent it, but I'm too lazy. Uh oh - the Snuggies have taken hold of me already.

I just hope Bea sleeps tonight. Because Sara and I sure as hell need to.

Maybe We Should Have Named Her Kato Kaelin

When we adopted Bea, we were told she would be chasing squirrels. While we haven't seen a squirrel (aside from her squirrel toy, which she ignores), we doubt Bea can chase anything.

We took her to the dog park for the first time today, and she was a big ol lump. I wonder why she's so tired? Maybe it's because she didn't sleep all night. I must have kept her up with all of my pacing.

She'll run a little while on the leash, but she prefers to just chill out and relax. She does the same on our couch, but at least the dog park is sunny. On Golden Girls, Bea Arthur always sat home on a Saturday night. Maybe Bea is just getting into character.

This is the most active Bea has been.


At least WE were social at the dog park. Sara and I met a few other neighborhood dogs and owners, which is the first time we've spoken to any neighbors in the 9 months we've lived here.

Sara tells me that when I call Bea, I am not high-pitched enough, and that dogs respond better to high-pitched voices. I'm already trying not to become someone who talks to their dog like they're a person. Instead, Sara wants me to become someone who talks to their dog like they're a baby.

We tried to get her a bath so she smells a bit less like dog, but all the groomers are closed on Saturdays. No, we're not giving her a bath ourselves. It's bad enough that our couch and my car are covered in dog hair - we don't need the bathroom covered in soapy dog hair. The reason I work hard is so I have the money to pay someone else $50 to deal with a wet dog. I already love Bea, but not enough to put up with THAT.

Oh, and she still hasn't pooped. Seriously, this is getting a bit ridiculous. Especially since we'll get very excited when she does poop. I'll make sure to congratulate her on her poop in a high-pitched voice.

Oh My God, Go To Sleep

Last night was rough. Really rough.

Bea may not have slept all night - she didn't bark, she didn't whine, but she did pace back and forth on our hardwood floors. If we'd hired a tap dancer, Bea would have drowned her out.

I got a few hours in, spaced in 10-20 minute chunks. I am sure it's going to get easier, but this may have been the worst night of sleep I've gotten since I saw Night of the Living Dead. I know that's not a terrifying movie, but I was 11.

Maybe Bea Arthur is a zombie dog. Or a dog vampire, who only sleeps during the day. Either way, the sleeping habits of the undead may be better than what we dealt with last night.

Why Won't You Love Us?

It hasn't even been 6 hours, and already I'm worried that I'm a terrible parent. There are a million things that can go wrong when you have a dog, and though none of them have yet, I have this sinking feeling it's a matter of time. Okay, so a few things went wrong today.

We picked Bea up just after 5:30. Friday rush hour traffic - good start. Nothing is worse than sitting in traffic when you're incredibly excited to get somewhere. It's the same reason I don't understand the point of tantric sex. I'm too goal oriented.

We got a great parking spot, and ran in excited. Bea's foster mom gave us her crate and bed, a few toys she allegedly likes, and some food. Bea wasn't thrilled about getting in the car, and she drooled everywhere. Which led me to two things:

1) I love my car, but realize it is a necessary sacrifice. My car is a year old, and is in impeccable condition. Well, it was 24 hours ago. I have never understood people that throw garbage everywhere in their cars. My car is a very small place where I spend a great deal of time. I want it running well and smelling fresh - and it's not hard to keep a garbage bag on the gear shift and some spares in the back. But today, we put a living, breathing, shedding, drooling animal in the back seat and I decided that it's just a way of life now. I will still get my oil changed and my tires rotated and my filter cleaned - but my back seat is going to be full of dog slobber.

2) We want Bea to love us instantly, and that's not going to happen. Right now, we're the people that ripped her out of the one home she's ever had (aside from her shelter in Puerto Rico). She will grow to love us, but it will take time. Meanwhile, we can scream "why don't you love us?" in funny voices, and she won't understand because she only speaks Spanish.

The pet store was a great experience. There was no big Petco or Petsmart near the fosters, so we went to Pet Emporium in Brooklyn Heights. The owner was a guy named Sam who clearly loved dogs, and really took his time with us. He knew everyone that came in, and they knew each other - which was our first glimpse into how social a dog will make us. Sara and I fell in love because our mutual hatred for most of humankind - so us being forced to be social will be a good thing. We think.

We left with her food bowl, a bone, a clicker, some treats, a toy squirrel, and a new leash and harness, which we call Bea Arthur's matching pants suit. She has no interest in the squirrel or the bone, despite the fosters telling us otherwise. She does, however, love our hardwood floor. It's like buying a kid a new toy and watching them play with the box and the wrapping paper.




Bea and her matching pants suit.



The car ride with her into Manhattan was rough - she's clearly stressed, but she's got to learn to ride with us. I was happy I was driving. Sara doesn't drive much - so it's not a good idea to add a dog panting and drooling in the back seat who is trying to get into the front seat.

I had two shows, so Sara walked around with Bea while I went inside. I talked about Bea on stage, and told all the other comedians about her. Partly because I was so excited to finally have a dog, and partly because I had to explain why I was covered in dog hair. I was bragging - I don't know why, but I felt like having Bea just makes me a better person.

We drove home afterwards, and we're exhausted. We decided that we want her allowed on the couch so we can watch TV and hang out with her (Golden Girls, of course), but the bed is off-limits. As it is, Sara and I wake each other up every time we move. We don't need a dog making it even tougher to sleep. Hopefully she's as tired as we are. Somehow, I doubt it.

The couch - another thing for Bea to ruin.

"Why won't you love us?!!!"




We walked her just before bed - which was very pleasant since the weather is awesome. She peed for the first time with us (after 20 minutes of trying to find the right spot), but hasn't pooped yet. Sara says it's because Bea is uncomfortable and stressed. Maybe I'll see if my parents can give her any advice on the matter.

Doggie, Here I Come

We got approved! I don't think we were ever doubting, but even for something that seems like a sure thing, I still get worried. When I got an AIDS test, I was convinced I had AIDS until I got the results - despite having no logical reason to believe I had AIDS. When cops drive by me, I worry that they're going to arrest me even though I've done nothing wrong. Maybe they'll arrest me for falsifying an AIDS test. Anyway, you get the idea - I was worried we wouldn't get approved.

The process was pretty simple - two women from Stray From the Heart came over and asked us if we liked dogs. We said yes, they gave us the papers. There was a bit more to it than that, but it was mostly them trying to think of extra questions and us trying to think of extra reasons why a dog would be happy here, since it was obvious within the first two minutes that it was a good fit. You never want to hire someone the first two minutes of a job interview, so you make up more questions.

"So, um, tell me what you think of, um, stuff."

Quick aside - the women from the rescue were young and attractive, which made me wonder how safe that job is. Sara and I are normal "I won't tie you up and kidnap you" type people, but I can't imagine everyone is. Any job that involves going into a stranger's home is dangerous for a young woman. Hell, look what chambermaids go through. Danger of traveling to unfamiliar situations is one of the reasons there aren't many female comedians. I have been to at least 50 gigs where I thought I'D get raped and killed, I can't imagine how dangerous it must be for a young woman on the road. And that doesn't include the gas stations I stopped at on the way to the gigs.

So we didn't kidnap the women, cause like I said, that's not our thing. Instead, we paid them the $250 adoption fee and signed a contract that said we promise to never ever give away this dog. So basically we signed a contract that the $250 is just the first in a VERY long line of expenses. The expenses aren't what's nerve-racking - It hit us us that we we're adopting a living thing, and no matter what goes wrong, it's our responsibility. My car cost a hundred times what the dog cost, but it didn't seem final because I am allowed to sell my car. And this dog is going to destroy my car.

All that said, I am beyond excited. I am excited to have a dog that will love me and keep me company. I am excited that Sara and I get to have a family without the annoyance of children. (That's another blog for another time). And I am excited to have matured enough that I'm no longer afraid of dogs, and I'm actively looking forward to having one. Sure, she's a small dog, but baby steps. Not actual baby steps, I just covered that.

One strange thing - Sara is oddly nervous. She's always been the one pushing for a dog, and she often talks fondly about the dog she fostered. She is the one that taught our Tivo to default on Animal Planet, and she is the one who wakes up early on Saturdays to help walk shelter dogs that have little to no chance to ever find a home. Yet I'm the one who desperately wants to get the dog tonight, and she is the one who wants to wait until tomorrow.

It does make sense to wait until tomorrow, as I have a show at 9PM tonight and we won't have enough time to pick up Bea and go to the pet store. But I do feel like our dog is sleeping in someone else's house tonight, even if she doesn't know it yet.

Wow. Tonight is my last night of not being a dog person. Tomorrow, I become a father - but without all the crap that comes with having a kid. (Another blog for another time, I promise).

Much Needed Advice That is Not Much Needed

We're getting our home inspected by dog people again tonight. I'd imagine that no matter what it looks like, it's going to be nicer than the average home. We're pretty clean people, and we're minimalists when it comes to decoration. We don't collect hummels or decorative plates or anything else people would never buy unless they were told to collect them.

I do realize that what impresses humans and what impresses dogs are very different things. We've got a great view of the east river, marble countertops, and new fixtures. I hope that the people looking us over are impressed, and forget that a dog wouldn't care about any of that. Though marble counter tops are harder to destroy.

When I told my mother that we were looking at another dog, she suggested that I call a family friend who has a dog for advice. I reminded her that Sara volunteers at a dog shelter, and she's fostered a dog in the past. My mother insisted, as if my offer to not bother someone with questions I already know the answer to would somehow be rude. It reminded me of when my father first met Sara and told her about a website to get discount theater tickets, because Sara works as an exec on Broadway. They mean well, but it is silly to offer someone advice in their field of expertise. I can't wait to get a dog, so my parents give her advice on how to shit outdoors.