Picking Up My Puppy

First Day Home

First Day Home

I had wanted a dog for the last 20 years. To give you perspective, I turn 21 in a couple months. My parents had given me excuses, telling me Dad is allergic when really he had zero problems with most dogs. What it came down to was that they never could agree on how to raise them. Dad grew up in the country and had hunting dogs. They worked and lived outside or in the barn, only allowed into the house when it was really nasty. Mom’s family had  a series of English sheep dogs, with stories upon stories of them sleeping at her feet and coming on vacations with them. The consensus was that any training my dad did would be undone by my mom making the dog part of the family. This summer, as I was entering into my junior year of university, I was able to move into a place that actually allowed pets. I am pretty well off in that my parents have been able to pay for most of college, so I can go full time without needing a job. What that means is every piece of savings I have is entirely mine to spend on my dream dog.
Well a couple weeks ago the San Francisco Bay Area and greater Los Angeles area had a “clear the shelter” event. For months prior (since I knew I was going to move into the dog friendly place) I had been refreshing the pages on for different shelter’s websites almost 15 times a day, looking for the perfect pup. On the day of the free pet event I was stuck in a writing placement test for school.

By the time I got out all the websites were showing dogs that did not fit my criteria. I wanted something sorta young (to me that was 18 months to 5 years), I had settled on a medium to large size, and I wanted something fluffy. I was upset and my boyfriend was being particularly useless at the time so I resolved to wait until December 2016 when I knew they would have a similar event. The next morning I wait up to a notification on my phone from my boyfriend’s roommate’s girlfriend, the shelter now had a bunch of puppies!! I was curious and took a peek at their website. Oooh, Cocker Spaniel mixes. That was about the smallest I was willing to go and I knew I liked the breed.

Well I dragged boyfriend out of bed, bought him a McDonald’s breakfast and raced down to the shelter. I found my favorite adoption counselor; she knew me because I had been by so frequently, and had her point me to the litter. By the time I got there all but one was spoken for, I told her to put me on the list before I even got to the room. When I peaked through the window I was pointed to the runt, a short legged, slightly chubby, non fluffy, terrier mix who showed no Cocker Spaniel what so ever. And I was in love. I went in to meet him, and have not left him since.

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