Or rather, a puppy found me.  I’ll never forget how this cantankerous little fuzzbutt came into my life.  I had it in my head that I’d know – truly know – I was an adult as soon as I could take care of something else and keep it alive (bonus points for happy and alive).  I had grown up with a Boston Terrier, and by God, I was going to get a Boston of my very own and name her Emma just as soon as I was a certified adult.  (No idea where that name came from, but once I want something, I generally abandon all good judgement to get it.)  Browsing a cute-overload site with puppies seemed like a logical distraction from preparing for my final meeting with the graduate committee to defend my work later that week. Surely, this second degree was the milestone I had been waiting for!

On page 12, after I thought I had seen all of the Bostons there were to see (strangely, none were in Boston), I saw her.  She had these adorable little floppy Gizmo ears and a sweet innocent look about her that made me think I needed to save her.  Aww – so sweet – what’s her name?  Emma.  Yep – her name was already Emma.  [In fairness, I’m sure there are a bazillion Emma Bostons out there, but I needed a sign, so work with me, people.]  Where was she?  Bentonville, Arkansas.  Well that ended that.  I wasn’t going to make Gizmo-Emma fly alone across the country.  Hell, no.

So I closed my laptop and sighed loudly enough for my boyfriend at the time to hear me. He asked what was wrong, and I told him: perfect puppy, imperfect location.  “Where is she?” he asked.  I told him and he got this incredible grin on his face.  You see, he had a business meeting in Bentonville (home of Wal-Mart, folks) the next week.  My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.  I looked at him and said, “well, I can’t fight that.  Go get her.”  He agreed, we shipped a pet carrier to his hotel and a few days later, we had a bundle of insane joy in our apartment.

So in a million years I don’t think I’d ever work with a breeder to get a puppy again (rescue, rescue, rescue!), but years later, Emma is still that ridiculously cute little Gizmo, which is a good thing.  If she weren’t so damn cute, I might have put her up for adoption about a dozen times.  I’m still not sure I’m an adult, but I do know I’m in love with this fuzzbutt and if you’re in my life, you’d better be too.