The seats had to be folded down to create more space, and the back of the Jeep was full of all the equipment we would need. We didn’t want to get to Grandma’s and not have options.

So … in went the portable crib/playpen, the changing station, the rocking pumpkin seat, the bouncing swing, the baby backpack, the baby front pack, the mobile, and the stroller. Not to mention most of the baby’s wardrobe … and educational toys, a box of diapers, a pack of wipes, powder, cream, and countless other bottles of things “just in case.”

Even though most of the stuff never came out of the car, somehow we felt better knowing it was there. Neither of us wanted to be wearing a hole in  the carpet at 3 a.m. with a crying baby and have no options. Some nights nothing but the swing would do; some nights it was rocking in the pumpkin seat that did the trick. Other nights, the only thing that would work was the soothing sounds from the Baby Einstein music box. The portable crib/playpen was always used. She needed a place to sleep and be safe.

Maybe that’s the difference between then and now. The baby needed to be safe. We agreed about that. The discussion we are having today is about the new “baby” in the house—our Rottweiler puppy.

This isn’t the first debate about the new pup. The first was about dog training. I wanted to hire a professional; my husband didn’t. From the start, we had different visions. Knowing that this dog is possibly going to be the largest dog we’ve ever had and that we have the opportunity to raise him from a puppy, I was envisioning a well-mannered gentle giant.  My husband’s vision was that of a protector and security guard.

We did it his way—at first. Then, at five months, our puppy was dragging me down the street and jumping wildly on anyone who entered the house, us included.

I hired a dog trainer.

She came to the house, and in twenty minutes Panzer and I were ready to enter the Westminster Dog Show. My vision was of us prancing in unison to the beat of September by Earth, Wind & Fire on bright green AstroTurf. Anyone who has ever had a puppy, and hired a trainer, knows that the training is not for the puppy, but for the people. We had a lot of work to do.  

It was her next training tool that began the stalemate at home.

Not unlike the long list of equipment we thought we needed for our new baby, the trainer had a list she thought we needed for our puppy. Most of it was easy enough: a fanny pack—a poor fashion choice but convenient for holding training treats—a prong collar, a six-foot leash, and an aerosol can of air. I didn’t get it at first. Puppies, especially mine, are afraid of noises. But one quick spray, and he snapped to attention.

Then came the hurdle we still haven’t been able to cross … the Dog Kennel.

Remember the portable crib/playpen that was a MUST for our baby? The trainer insisted that the kennel was a safe space for our puppy. My husband insisted that it was a medieval training device. I landed somewhere in the middle. The suggested kennel was the size of a sofa … definitely not a match for my interior decor.

The puppy may destroy the house while we continue the debate. He has a special attraction to wood. The corners of the baseboards and the legs of the tables and chairs are favorites. However, I might just put my foot down if he discovers the piano.

But for now, the question still lingers … To Cage or Not to Cage?