Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!

Can I be complete honest with you? This weekend I questioned whether adopting Rudy was the right thing. And now you're asking: who the hell is Rudy? The Prof decided he liked Rudy better than Rooney, it's actually easier to say, and so alas, it's Rudy. He responds to it so all is right in the world.

I am rarely one to sugarcoat matters. Rudy acted like a complete and utter nutcase when we brought him home. Yes, I understand he had been in the shelter for nearly one and a half months. Yes, he is young, under two years old, and he has a ton of energy. But I did not expect quite that much energy. Oh, all that energy. I set up his crate downstairs and had two leashes ready, one for inside and one for outside. After walking him and throwing a toy nearly 5,000 times, I decided he expended enough energy to be introduced to the house. House, this is Rudy, Rudy, this is House. Unfortunately, it is not this House.

All he wanted to do was run around and around and around the house checking everything out. And then the cats. Oh the cats and oh hell how did I make my first big mistake. I introduced the cats to Rudy directly and not through a closed door. Big mistake. His response? OHMYGODOHYMYGODHIHIHILETMESNIFFYOUPERHAPSCHASEYES?YES?

In human translation: holy hell I've never been so excited to meet you but if you run, that means I will chase you. GAH! So Rudy went back downstairs, the cats gave me dirty looks, and I nearly cried.

The next day, he couldn't believe he still lived with us. His outpouring of love made my heart ache. He truly wanted to be a good boy but the excitement overwhelmed him. We spent a good part of the day throwing Frisbees, which he can catch if we don't suck at throwing them, throwing balls, and going for a walk. He calmed a bit but still, it was all so very very new and he literally did not know what to do.

Sunday included more playing, throwing, attention, and love. We named his numerous squeaky toys, praised him for good behavior, and worked on "No jumping" and "Sit" and "Stay" before he entered the house. Still, the cats were on strike and wanted nothing to do with this atrocious creature. Ew! A dog! When I talked to my sister on the phone, I wondered how long we could take his behavior with the cats.

But then I began to do some reading and calmed down. We decided that he will need to be downstairs dog until he becomes used to the house and the cats become accustomed to him, he must stay in his crate while unsupervised, and most importantly, we need to be consistent with his training. After all, he is a good, sweet, smart, and loving dog. All he needs is our time and patience and I think he will be sure to give it back.