Getting Off on the Wrong Paw

I’m a pretty well organized and disciplined individual (veteran). I think and plan things in my life in the present, the near future and for the long term.

All in the first 48 hours of an idea, thought and or moment of clarity (OCD).  My peculiar methods have kept me alive in some pretty dangerous situations but they can also be a curse. Nevertheless, I rarely miss crucial details and don’t find myself getting off on the wrong paw (foot) on a regular basis.

That being said, I truly didn’t have any knowledge of the dog adoption process when entering Petsmart. I figured it was a week long ordeal.


I envisioned some form of meet and greet with the prospective adoptee, spend some time together at the shelter and then a final meeting at my home (suitable home inspection). Then the dog either stays or I pick up the adopted doggie at the shelter on a later date.


The adoption process on this day at PetSmart was extremely cost-effective; we aim to please, same day delivery, Sir.

So I improvised and thought out an efficient plan to receive Oscar into my home. I was confident that all the bases would be covered and it would be smooth running to home plate.


When I arrived at Petsmart I had a car load of gardening supplies. A small bush, several bags of potty mix and a few odds and ends from Lowe’s.

Right from the start, I was getting off on the wrong paw, knowing full well that a dog adoption was in the realm of possibilities when I exited the car. Once the dogs and the adoption sign came into view, I should of went home, unloaded my car and returned.

No, I would adopt a rescue dog named Oscar in less than two hours from exiting the car.


Nevertheless, after speaking with Oscar’s foster mom and buying the required items in the pet adoption kit (Dog ID, food, bowls, etc); she agreed to keep an eye on Oscar while I unload my car, rearrange furniture and setup Oscar’s necessities in our home.

My home isn’t built like Caesars’ Palace so it didn’t take long to complete the necessary tasks.


Upon returning to Petsmart, I’m a bit shaky, yes a shaky one indeed as anxiety overloads my systems. I ease my way into the store and in an attempt to “get it together”, darted into the aisles and purchased a few toys, doggie bed and a Crate (essential item).

I place all the goods into the trunk of the car and headed back into the store with a slight bit of confidence. And with receipts in hand, I clear doggie customs, shake a few hands and away Oscar and I go headed straight for the doors. We exited Petsmart like two bank bandits on a heist, briskly walking to the getaway car.

Black and Tan Chiweenie sitting in a carAre we going someplace nice?


Again, when I picked Oscar up he didn’t pee-pee on me and walked like a gentleman to the car on his leash. No accidents as I placed him into the passenger seat and as we say, onward good fellow.

I only live 4 city blocks from the store so we jetted through traffic arriving at my parking area in roughly 8 minutes (no peanuts served).

When I pull into the parking lot, someone is parked in my HOA assigned parking space! In the 3 years I’ve lived here, this has occurred only once.

Authorized Only Parking Sign

No, not today, not right now I have a bit shaky, yes a shaky one indeed (piss pants), in my car right now!

All the improvisation and planning for this moment to include Oscar’s patience just got “snake eyed” by some lazy (bleep)!


There are Authorized Only Parking Signs everywhere in our community (townhouses). As a matter of fact there is one RIGHT ABOVE my parking space. Yes, Lazy Bleep!


Someone is clearly getting off on the wrong paw with me!


If this is your first read at Oscar’s Gaze, I live in Las Vegas, NV. And just like in the movies, in Sin City your luck can change rapidly to the Good, the Bad and the Ugly! I love that movie, excuse me, I digress.

That being said, Oscar and I would be dealt a losers hand without getting comped for our drinks.


I hit the horn twice in approximately 5 minutes, my blood is boiling and steam is coming off my forehead. If you were there I could have served you a nice plate of poached eggs off my forehead!


Most days I keep “him” in check with the help of the VA. He’s only allowed out of his reinforced bullet-proof glass cage (too much?) on an emergency basis (kids in trouble, damsels in distress and or wartime).

Well, when no one responded to the car horn, the glass miraculously started to crack and by the time I got out of the car the glass was completely shattered —Oh sh&t, he’s loose!


With my cardiovascular system running on high velocity nitro (type of rocket fuel) it didn’t take me long to find the parking violators (mother and son), whom were a good 25 yards from the parking area (you left Oscar).

With deference to the mother I asked politely if they owned the car in my parking spot. She said yes, and the teenage son grinned. Okay, young man I see you intend to get off on the wrong paw with me.

I then explained to her that parking spaces in this community are assigned and paid for by the owners, please move your car, I have a newly adopted rescue dog in my car and he’s skiddish.

The woman started to move quickly while her son smirked and purposely walked very slow, I lost it, and shouted NOW!

The mother then tried to calm me down by throwing gasoline into the flames by saying they didn’t know they couldn’t park there. I shouted you mean to tell me you didn’t see that sign right in front of your car!

Now I’m close to my car and I look in on Oscar and he has deposited a pool of pee-pee onto the passenger seat. Without thinking I yell, Damn it see, he’s pissed all over the seat! Now the boy is damn near sprinting to his mothers car, while she’s shouting, Sorry, Sir!


I watch them scurrying away (always be vigilant), then I go back to the car, now Oscar is in the drivers seat in another puddle of pee-pee. Sigh.

In the softest ring tone I could muster, I said, Oscar it’s okay, I’m sorry I got mad and left you alone. I then proceeded to sit down in his pee-pee and pulled the car into my parking spot.

I get out and quickly move to the passenger door and ask Oscar to get out with a slight tug on the leash and the simple command of C’mon Oscar, C’mon. He doesn’t budge, I go to pick him up he pee-pees on the seat again.

Sound familiar (foster mom treatment)?

Okay, I ignore it and place him on the sidewalk, and again, he walks like a gentleman as we pass through the security gate and the backdoor leading into the kitchen.


I shut the door and let his leash fall to the ground (bad move), I say go Oscar you can look around your new home. He darts towards the front door slipping on the tile, then 3/4 of the way he stops dead in his tracks. He looks back with a confused expression then sprays a puddle of pee-pee on the floor. I say that’s okay Oscar I know your a bit scared at the moment, it’s okay, Oscar.

Now my planning produces some fruit, I strategically left apple cider vinegar and water soaked hand towels in strategic locations throughout the house (superb cleaner and blocks odors). I grab one and go about the housekeeping chore. But I didn’t anticipate that this would crowd his space and he dashed towards the front door and deposits another puddle of pee-pee on the floor. Goodness Gracious how much beer can you drink you little Piss Pot, Oscar!


Now my OCD has kicked in, I’m wiping up the second puddle and too close again. This time he’s slightly cornered so he darts behind an end table wrapping his leash into a knot. He’s struggling to break free, knocking a lamp over in the process as I’m desperately trying to undue the tangles and knot in the leash.

Now, I’ve really invaded his space, the little guy curls up and rolls over, growls and brandishes his teeth!

Oh, hell no, don’t even think about biting me, you remember the parking lot, you don’t want “him” to get loose again now do you! I point at him, stare and yell, No!

He growls again, but immediately cowers and freezes in place, then I’m finally able to get the leash untangled from the end table.


Oscar would remain behind the end table for the next 3 hours. I moped around in deep reflection (what have I gotten myself into) and made some adjustments to furniture positions and erected his Den (crate).

As evening approached I was able to get him to eat and drink a little by rattling his food bowl and splashing in the water bowl.

He sheepishly made a few trips to the bowls, then immediately returned to his spot behind the end table and just watched my every move as zinsat just 3 feet away (recliner).

Around 8:30 pm, figuring he wouldn’t move, and feeling sorry for myself, I went out the back door (left open) and just stared at the stars in silence. To my amazement when I returned he was sleep on the couch. A few minutes later, I placed him (no accident) in his Den, closed the crate gate and said, nite-nite Oscar. A little glimmer of hope ended our first day together.

Black and Tan Chiweenie sleeping on the couch.It’s been a tough day, time for happy dreams!


At this point I’m exhausted reliving our dramatic first day. That being said, I’m gonna let Oscar tell his side of the story. Oscar’s first post is here: One Paw in Front of the Other


2 thoughts on “Getting Off on the Wrong Paw

  1. Yes, Oscar has the exact same problem. I fussed with him the other day for not coming inside when I repeatedly called him, and once he came in I was still fussing, and he left a puddle, I felt so bad knowing when he gets nervous he can’t hold it. 😧 The little, maybe 6 yrs, but big neighbor boy terrifies him too the point of growling and barking. It’s a sad scene Oscar scared and little boy with hands everywhere in motion confused why the puppy won’t play with him. Yesterday, Oscar, dropped a number 2 near him, this time the little boy ran away lol!


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About marcelino guerrero

An entrepreneur, grandfather, disabled veteran, Chiweenie parent and rabid Philadelphia Phillies Phan. Retired (involuntarily); I enjoy impeding the progress of important and obnoxious people while exploring new ways to irritate my primary physician.