With the 4^th of July in the rearview mirror, my time was running out before I had to find a new place for Carlisle, Easton, and me to live. The search had proven to be one disappointment after another. My options were becoming limited to either having my mail forwarded to a cardboard box in an alley or even worse…my mom’s house. I eventually found an ad for an apartment in a great location in Indianapolis and quickly sent an e-mail where my first question was, “Do you accept two dogs…particularly dachshunds?” I almost instantly got a response back saying that she allowed up to two dogs per unit, and we were quickly arranging for me to view the place.

The apartment is located on Mass Ave, which is a well-known cultural district in Indianapolis filled with art galleries, restaurants, shops, and “night spots.” Currently, the city is in the process of completing a walking trail that will connect various cultural districts around the city, and this particular apartment building is tucked just behind the construction of a segment on this trail. I had a good feeling as I saw the seven-unit building and even better feeling once I saw the apartment that I would be looking at was almost segregated on the third floor away from the other units, which meant there would be less foot traffic directly outside my door for dachshunds to bark at. The interior of the apartment was spacious and almost had too much room for the three of us. As we walked out, I told the landlady that I was definitely interested, and we made arrangements for me to drop off the deposit and first month’s rent the next day without a lease being signed. The search was over, and we were on the precipice of starting a new adventure together.

A week almost went by, and I began to think about the location and how Carlisle and Easton would adjust. We were leaving a house on a quiet, tree-lined street for an apartment in a more urban, busier part of downtown. If the dachshunds even saw a glimpse of another person while out for a walk in our neighborhood, they would cause a bark-storm as if saying, “Get out of my hood!” Now they were going to have to share their outdoor space with people strolling from art galleries and shops to bars and restaurants. There would be people at all hours of the night. I already had anxiety about encountering people within the apartment building itself, but I was also going to have to deal with one of the most popular destinations in the downtown area. I feared that I would become that guy on Mass Ave with the crazy wiener dogs.

My anxieties almost boiled over when the landlady sent me an e-mail after we had almost everything finalized saying, “We didn’t really talk about your dogs. How well-behaved are they?” As you recall, this is where things went wrong before.

I gave her the same speech that I had given the last guy explaining that they were dogs and do what dogs do. I told her that I am an attentive owner, and they get the love and care that they need. After all, it is the owner and not the animal you have to worry about in most cases. I must have said the right thing because we moved in at the end of July, and she never charged a pet deposit. I later found out from one of my new neighbors that this landlady has a very lenient pet policy because her daughter breeds pit bulls, none of which live in my building. After a disheartening search for a place to live, it seemed like we had found the perfect home for us. All that was left to do was settle in.