The First Night Home With a New Puppy

I awoke at two in the morning because of crying. Not loud panicked cries, but soft whimpering. This crying was coming in waves from the laundry room where we set the crate up for him. I lay there for a minute, trying to decide if I wanted to go in and comfort him or if I wanted to let him settle down by himself.

My husband stirred beside me. “Is that him?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Should we…?”

“I don’t know.”

The day before, we had brought home a new puppy. A ten week old golden retriever. It was named Maple. Since we had been on a waiting list for a long time, we jumped at the first chance that we received from the breeder. Copper was twelve now. He was moving slower every season, and we wanted him to have a companion while he still had the energy to teach a younger dog the rhythms of the house.

But now I didn’t feel right. Maple was now in a strange house with a room of strangers, and we were the ones that separated him from the only world he had known.

My husband and I got up.

When we went to the laundry room, Maple was at the front of the crate. The crying stopped the moment he saw us and his tail started to wag.

I knelt down to open the crate. He burst out, all arms and ears, and instantly started licking my hand. My husband sat down next to me, and Maple jumped into his lap, then mine, then back to his, like he couldn’t figure out where he was meant to go.

We sat there for twenty minutes. No training strategy, no plans, just sitting on the cold tile floor in the middle of the night with a puppy who wanted company.

After awhile, Maple’s energy started to run out. His eyes dropped. He rested his head on my knee and took a long sigh. One that sounded like relief.

I thought of Copper. He was asleep in the living room, completely undisturbed by the newcomer. Earlier in the evening, he had sniffed Maple once, gave a half hearted tail wag, and walked away. Juniper hadn’t even come down.

I remembered all the first nights I had spent with foster puppies. The uncertainty, the sleeplessness, the odd warmth of being someone’s entire world in a moment of fear.

This wasn’t a foster though. This was ours. This puppy would grow up here, learn all the best nap spots and all the best views for street watching. He would be part of the family in a way I couldn’t even imagine yet.

But tonight he was just scared. We were just tired, and it mattered most that he didn’t have to be alone.

Slowly, we managed to get him back into the crate. We used a soft blanket plus one of my old T shirts that had our scent on it. After a couple cirles, he settled into a corner. He kept his eyes on us.

“ We will be right up here”, I told him softly, hoping he would understand.

He didn’t cry when we left, he might have been too tired, or maybe he had decided that we were trustworthy. Some other reasons could be that he was aware that we would return if he needed us.

When I got back into bed, I listened. The house was silent. My husband was asleep. Downstairs, a puppy was figuring out this new place could be safe.

I stayed up all night, and it didn’t bother me.