When I was around 13 years old my middle school friends' parents were deciding their children were finally responsible for them to get a family pet. A puppy. I've had dogs my whole entire life but they'd all been rescues. The dogs my parents had when I was born, an English Setter named Cesar and a German Short Haired Pointer named Argos, were both several years old when I made my big arrival. Then when they had both passed on to doggie heaven, we started rescuing Greyhounds. Stella, Zoe, and Francesca (better known as Frankie) were all amazing dogs, and someday I hope to rescue Greyhounds myself. But I'd never had the opportunity to enjoy a wonderfully hyper, warm, crazy bundle of puppy. I argued with my mother, telling her that I was "puppy deprived". And her response was as follows: "Get through high school. Go to college. Graduate college in four years like you're supposed to, and as a graduation gift I will get you any kind of puppy you want. You'll be done with school and able to truly enjoy your new pet." I didn't think this was fair. I was finishing up eighth grade and college graduation seemed a very long way away. And in truth it was. Eight long years.
Over those years I changed my mind several times about what breed I wanted. I knew I wanted something small, "purse-sized" I would joke, something I could carry and dress up with cute accessories. I wanted a dog that would be portable and able to go every where with me. At first I thought i wanted a Chinese Crested. And that is what my heart was set on for many of those eight long years. Then I met my now fiancee's family Westie, Mac, in college and thought maybe I wanted one of those. Them being hypo-allergenic was a big turn on considering I'd since been allergy tested and had tested positive to dogs and cats, both of which I'd grown up with. Then I went back to Chinese Cresteds when I decided that a Westie would be too big. But then realizing all the maintenance a hairless dog's skin would require of me, I decided that the novelty would be short lived. Some how I decided on a Boston Terrier, a decision that was solidified by getting a new horseback riding instructor who just happened to own one.
Thus, the search began. I tried to find a reputable show dog breeder who could provide me with my long awaited new best friend. I knew I wanted a female and I wanted a black and white or brindle and white. I wanted her to be perfect and I also wanted her immediately after receiving my diploma. When the traditional show breeders didn't look like they were going to be able provide that puppy, my dad and I began looking online. He found an ad listing one brindle and white female and one black and white female four hours away in North Carolina. I called the woman up and made plans to go visit the puppies. My parents and I packed up and drove up from South Carolina. And so, Olivia was finally found.
I'd decided on the name Olivia Rose while still looking for a puppy and when I fell in love with the little guinea pig-sized, five week old, black and white (turned out to be a little bit brindle) it seemed like a sign that the mother's name should happen to be Maggie Rose. We left a deposit and we drove back home to wait two weeks until Olivia would be ready to come home.
That time dragged, and dragged, AND DRAGGED. But finally that day was upon me. My parents and I piled into the car with everything we could possibly need: a roll of paper towels, a baggie of kibble, toys (both chew and squeak variety), puppy receiving blankets, a collapsible bowl, a water bottle, a crate with a pee pad inside it.
We arrived and were shocked to see how much Olivia had grown. She'd at least doubled in size! And while the first time she was calm and learning to use her legs, this time she was trotting around happily and excitedly. She sat on my lap the whole way home and slept most of the way, it seems these four hours were enough to solidify in her mind that I was her human. And this, my friends, is how my relationship with my new little baby started.