Brady looks into my eyes. "What is it you want?" he seems to ask. "Teach me- I'll grant whatever I can give." He is only eight weeks old and already he comes with the genetic code to please.

I was up before dawn yesterday morning worrying about getting ready for him. We moved the crate from the basement to the kitchen so he could sleep in the same room as Sophie. I bought an infant fleece and a stuffed Sharpei dog for his crate. I line the crate with a few sheets of packing paper and an old, beige oval-shaped rocking chair cushion. I place his blue plastic weighted food bowls across from Sophie's.

I've already read the first chapter of "How to Raise the Perfect Dog," by Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer.

It reminds me of getting ready for childbirth the first time. I read Dr. Spock, assuming this would prepare me. I was surprised when I found no clear answers for my baby's colic. The book left me frustrated and I had to try different methods of comforting my son and figure it out on my own.

Our scheduled pick-up time is 10:30 am and we're out the door by 9:30 am. When we arrive at 10:15 a.m., Emily greets us at the door with a hug and then takes us to the den where our puppy and his brother are playing in an X-pen (dog playpen) att

ached to a crate. We already know we'll call the puppy with a kelly green ribbon "Brady" after the New England Patriots quarterback. Emily and her husband, Paul are still deciding the name of their puppy with the black ribbon, who has been called "Joe Black" so far. They're leaning toward "Joey".

Here I am holding Brady while Emily holds Joey.

Bruce holding Brady, I'm holding Joey and Sophie, their mother is sitting with us.

I rub the stuffed animal and fleece against Sophie so that her scent is on the items which may provide comfort to Brady in his crate. Sophie happily puts the sharpei in her mouth and proceeds to pull it's plastic nose off. We note that we should follow her lead and try to pull the eyes off... We put the newly scented items in a bag and head out to the car with our new family member. Em and I agree to get the dogs together soon as we both know the pups will grow in a millisecond. We say goodbye to Em, Paul, Sophie and Joey.

Bruce drives as Brady sits on my lap, an old towel under his bottom in case of "accidents". He seems a little unsure and shifts around, settling with his head resting on my arm. From time to time, he looks out the window and whimpers or snuggles on my shoulder.

I'm aware of his total dependence on me, away from his mother and siblings for the first time. I run my palm along his back, feeling his velvety new fur. I look in his brown, almond-shaped eyes. "I'll take good care of you," I tell him. "We're taking you home."

Welcome home, Brady.