It's been 24 hours and both the dog and I are still alive. I think my freaking out is done. This morning my dad, Faith, my mom, and Lindsay all called to check up on me. My dad and Faith are on Team Give Dog Back. My mom and Lindsay are on Team Keep Him. I'm gonna give it at least a week. I was able to stop him from pooping on my carpet and we went outside. Which was good. In the rain (which was not so good). He hates being dried off with a towel--growls and snaps--but he's doing fine with a rag. At the moment he's asleep on the couch. I let him out of his crate this morning, and we played for a bit, then he decided to nap. A lot of my guilt was centered around having to keep him crated at all times.

I was able to get a lot of work done today, and I am planning on doing more tonight. Lindsay has a dog, and she's had him since he was about 8 weeks. So, she knows all about the horrors of puppy training. And she reminded me that I rent; I don't own. She owns her condo and would get so mad when Sass would go inside. As long as he doesn't ruin my furniture, I will be able to move away from the dirty carpet. Although, I've decided to board him over night once a month so I can steam clean my carpets.

I'm much calmer now. Mainly due to talking about it all day, and hearing reassurances from my sister. Who knew?