The Dirt Field

Bobby and I adopted a dog this past Saturday. We had been discussing the possibility for several weeks and somehow in the process of visiting several adoption events, we went from Discussing to Owning without making a stop in Deciding.

The dog we got is a young female Doberman/hound mix that we call Mischa. She has the body of a thirty-five pound Doberman with hound features sprinkled throughout, which means she is muscular, lean, smooth-coated, and very agile and bouncy. Mischa is a good girl – she has a lot to learn and some maturing to do, but we can tell that underneath her wildly enthusiastic exterior is a sweet, smart dog.

But the wild enthusiasm layer is very thick. The woman running the rescue facility where we got Mischa stressed that she would need a lot of exercise, piles of exercise, don’t forget this dog needs lots of exercise, and when you are done exercising, she will need more exercise. Bobby and I figured that would be easy for us since we are both very active people who would love a running and biking companion. Kobe isn’t exactly an Olympian, unless his sport is screaming at strangers, so we figured Mischa would be a welcome addition to our life.

And she is. She sleeps peacefully through the night, has learned her name and some basic commands already, and plays nicely with Kobe. Granted, she ate the bones he had been cherishing gently for the past six months within two hours of entering our home, and yes, her favorite game is to steal his beloved stuffed duck and chase him around with it. But they still get along well and are learning to coexist in our small home.

The problem is the small home. Our two-bedroom condo with hardwood floors in the main living area has not been successful at keeping Mischa’s energy contained. We walk her and run her, but at some point, we have to return home to, you know, eat and sleep and bathe. Then she and Kobe bounce around the house (or really, around the 5’x8’ area rug, since the hardwood is too slippery) and leap on and off the bed, and I can feel Mischa itching to go back outside to run.

The worst is when we have to crate her to go to work or leave the house. Despite giving her toys and treats, I can feel her boredom and restlessness, and I can hear her barking and howling as we leave. People in Siberia can hear her barking and howling as we leave. In the few short days that we’ve had her, we have resorted to taking her with us in the car or just not leaving the house at all. Naturally, that makes things like running errands or mountain biking difficult.

We both want Mischa to work out, because the idea of taking such a sweet girl back to the rescue breaks my heart. She is a good, happy dog, but I’m worried that she has become accustomed to the rescue facility’s huge, fenced-in paddocks and will never be content to jog on a leash a few times a day. We can take her to dog parks and go on wild adventures occasionally, but we just don’t have the time to devote several hours to running wild each day. I don’t want to be selfish and give her back because she is too much work, but I don’t want to keep a lively, spirited dog in a home where she feels caged. Perhaps it will get better when we no longer need to crate her in our absence, but until she lays off the smack, we need to keep her safe in her cell while unsupervised.

What is the right thing to do? I’m at a loss and open to suggestions.