When the Milton Dog Summit began a couple months back, I made some firm requirements: good with children, calm, small-ish. Not a puppy. I wanted to give an adult dog a new home.
As the stay home parent, and the chief walker of said beloved pet, I needed to know that any dog we brought home would be in capable, if feeble, hands. The neuropathy in my ring and pinky fingers is always with me and I just don't have the hand strength necessary to train with an unruly, large dog, no matter how darling.
So, we have been researching and talking to breeders while all the while I pitched stories about my favorite childhood dog, Skippy, the sweetest little Boston terrier, as my husband scrunched his face up until I said: 'Yes, exactly. That's exactly how they look.'
I guess you had to be there. He wasn't amused either.
Then we read about Courtney, a sweet French Bulldog/Boston Terrier, looking for a family.
Last Saturday night, we brought our little honey home with us.
She is still shy and somewhat nervous, uprooted and unsure. Yet, each day she grows more confident. She is tucked away, near my feet right now, sprawled out and lightly snoring.
We are all smitten.
I am smitten. I am baby talk and warm chicken broth and checking on her at night.
And I'm amused that I am swept in the canine craze, something I've just never understood before this bitty dog came to call us home.