I’m not 100 percent sure if the Lab mother I’m seeing is pregnant, and if so, with how big a litter.

And the breeder hasn’t decided yet whether I will get one of her puppies if she has them.  I haven’t seent any puppies yet, so I can’t be sure I will want one until I see them. I am very particular about the puppy I want and have turned many down once I see them.

My cardinal rule: I get the dog I want, the dog I imagined, the dog I see a gift, the dog that makes my heart flutter. There are lots of good ways to do that, I’ve chosen an experienced and ethical breeder.

When I decide to get a dog, I don’t simply say I want a rescue or I want a purebred from a breeder. To me, that’s an invitation to disaster.

It’s not an emotional or moral decision for me, it’s very practical.

What is my vision for the dog, what do I want to do with the dog, and since I share this process, what will the dog be like to share with the world? Dogs are my business, I take the process very seriously, read every record and piece of paper and certificate, talk openly and honestly with the breeder.

And I see the dog more than once.

And I listen to myself, and to Maria.

She and I will spend a lot of hours talking about how we see a puppy coming into our lives. Who dogs will she be primarily? Who will take responsibility for training her?  Feeding her? Where will she sleep? Will she join us on our walks?

I’ll talk with the breeder, with Dr. Fariello, our vet, and I’ll once again research the nature and habits of the breed, as I have done before.

In the post-Red era – this is a huge change for me – I see three dogs who are different, each playing different roles in our lives. And this is important since it affects training, and the way we live with a dog I will hopefully know for the rest of my natural life.

The Lab – let’s call her Zinnia or “Zinn” for now –  will be a family dog, but more, I think mine more than Maria’s.

We share our dogs, but just as Red was my dog, and Fate is “her” dog and Bud is everybody’s dog, I expect to train this new dog and gradually introduce her into therapy work. That will tend to bond her to me, and I will need to do that if she is to be a successful therapy dog.

I picture her sleeping next to me while I write.

If I get her, it will be at eight weeks of age, and I’ll start training almost immediately, doing light and easy things for a month or so, then stepping it up. If she’s going to be a therapy dog, she must be thoroughly and intensely socialized – meeting all kinds of people in different places.

And she must be instantly and reliably obedient, and always under control.

She’ll go on walks in the country and come with me to the city to Bishop Maginn High School in Albany once a week. I’ve already arranged for me to come with me on my dental visits, as Red did.

I’ll take her to every business in town that I go to – the bank (they are eager to see her), our car mechanic,  the Round House Cafe, convenience stores, thrift shops, hair cutters.

At Bishop Maginn, I’ll turn her over to Sue Silverstein and responsible students while I teach my writing workshop. I want her to get used to being around all kinds of people -on the street, in schools, in stores, around town. I want her to trust people.

At the Mansion, I’ll park her in the office with doting aides, I want her to be comfortable with people other than me.

In a month or so after Zinnia comes, we’ll start doing calming and obedience training. She’ll sleep in a crate at night for the first six to eight months of her life. I want her to feel safe in the crate and trust it. A crate is essential to housebreaking quickly, and to having a calm puppy or dog who can be quiet and peaceful whenever she needs to go inside.

I am a big sap when it comes to puppies, but a hardass about some things. It’s not about being tough, it’s about being clear and patient and insistent.

My puppy will not be running the household, she will not be training me to let her jump on people steal food, eliminate in the house,  or eat things that are not hers to eat. And there will be plenty of things that are there for her to chew on.

I want a dog I will treat well and lovingly, but I also want to keep my own dignity and self-respect. I expect that from my dogs.

The puppy can play all she wants outside, but not in the house. No balls in the house, Labs, like border collies, can get addicted to chasing balls in seconds. I don’t want her coming up to me every second in the house so I can throw a ball for her.  I don’t want to be jacking up her prey drive all day out of guilt that she is not running around all day.

Dogs like Labs – and border collies and Boston Terriers – are killing machines, playing is a kind of hunting practice for them, it is important, but also needs care and perspective. Dog lovers often need their dogs to play more than most older dogs need to play.

It’s easy to make a border collie or Lab crazy. They should not be playing all day, and everywhere in the house.

Our house is a quiet place and a workplace, I have to make sure a puppy respects that. If I do my job of training upfront and consistently – and positively – then she will do hours and live peacefully and lovingly in our home.

And as I did with Bud, I’ll share the process.

Bud’s role will not change, he is pretty much a free agent, he gets to roam the house and be the Little Kang, and also be a farm dog and ride around with both of us in our cars. He gets to cuddle with Maria on sofas, sleep next to me in my study on Red’s dog bed.

Fate will do some therapy work at the Mansion and is working with me to see if she can get more assertive around the sheep. And she will continue as Maria’s dog, hanging out with her in her studio, guiding her walks in the deep woods.

I like the idea of three great dogs, three different roles.

Someone messaged me today to report that getting a new dog doesn’t ease or eliminate the grieving she feels for her dog who recently died. She cautioned me not to think my grieving for Red is over.

I don’t think of it that way. My searching for another dog and planning for another dog is the end of my intense grieving process, I love dogs and love getting a new one. I feel Red’s loss at various times, and with stabs to the heart.

I do believe getting another dog is profoundly important towards easing my grieving, once I am ready. And I firmly believe it’s the beginning of the end of the grieving process for me.

Everyone is different, every dog and breeder and rescue group is different, everyone should do what works for them.

So this is my vision as of now. I intend to work hard to bring it to life.