Adopting Trouble

My boyfriend Ben likes to tell people that Sadie’s name is short for Sadiemasochist. It’s not true. When we adopted her last Fourth of July we didn’t know a thing about Sadie’s personality. It never occurred to us that she would be terrified of everything, including little girls and the TV, or that when she got on our bed it would make our first dog Porter so mad that he’d pee in the living room out of spite, or that her evil eye would make him slink away from his own food. All of these quirky traits surfaced later.

We met Sadie on the corner of Union Square South in the middle of a sticky Manhattan afternoon. She was huddled behind a Mighty Mutts volunteer and was pretty. We were told she was a rott- pit mix. We see hound in her droopy eyes. She has similar brindle markings as Porter, a pit we rescued from the same corner just six months earlier. John, the founder of Mighty Mutts, said Sadie played well with other dogs and that he bought her and her sister from a “collector” because they looked the most unhealthy. He told us this while sitting in a reclining sun chair on the sidewalk and eating a hero sandwich.

During the previous week, Ben and I had each caught the other looking at pictures of available dogs on Internet adoption sites. Porter needed a buddy, we reasoned, and two dogs couldn’t be much more trouble than one. We’d already passed the intense application process administered by Mighty Mutts. Two volunteers came to our apartment to make sure we didn’t lie on our application about having a black hole in the kitchen. I strategically placed a copy of Runner’s World on the table so we looked active, and framed a picture of Ben and I camping. Ben is brushing his teeth inside a tent.

It was hot the day we became Sadie’s parents. She had never walked on a leash before. She wasn’t housetrained and she knew zero commands. It took us three hours to walk home—a distance that normally takes us fifteen minutes. It was a pilgrimage. Ben carried Sadie across intersections. She weighed 50 pounds. Strangers felt sorry for us. One woman, who saw us coming from half way down the block, had enough time to prepare a small bowl of water, which she offered the dogs when we finally passed her stoop. During the rare moments we looked like one big happy family, people commented on how beautiful our dogs were—how much they looked alike. Our decision was validated. One stranger practically begged to dog sit for us. “Just knock on my door, it’s right here, “she said, pointing. We’ve never taken her up on the offer.

That four-day weekend was spent taking Sadie outside every three hours and drinking whisky. We live in a five-floor walkup and Sadie had never walked up or down stairs before. There were many housebreaking accidents. A few were in the stairwell. One incident was particularly mortifying, because her urine dripped down three flights through the gap between the landing and the steps. Luckily, none of our neighbors walked by. We ran out of paper towels—and newspaper, and Windex. We bought more whiskey, and we bonded while sweating, watching movies and trying to go on walks. It was difficult to get Sadie off of our block. We thought it was cute that she’d never seen a TV before even though she was a year old.

There were times during the last five months when I thought that I hated Sadie. Now we have destination walks. If she makes it to the playground she gets a treat. If she can get to the pet store, she gets another. It works. We cook gourmet meals for both dogs, and Sadie’s fur no longer feels like sandpaper. Porter and Sadie play together incessantly. Last night, I watched Porter lick a scratch on Sadie’s neck. They are friends.

When I leave the house I put on Johnny Cash to help her get used to deep, masculine voices. We sit on the West Side Highway and give her treats if she’s calm when her triggers come zooming by, and invite our male friends over to walk in and out of our front door until she no longer barks. It works. She licked our friend Jason’s leg the other night for the first time even though she’d met him hundreds of times before.

It seems like we’ve had Sadie for much longer than we really have. For all the trouble that she is, Sadie has made my life richer. I’ve started to learn patience, empathy and resiliency, but realize it will take me a lifetime to master these skills. I’m glad I have Sadie to lead the way, though. For this, I love her.