Depending on who you ask, I am either very calculated or pretty impulsive. Truly, I think both characteristics fit me pretty well depending on which time frame of my life you may be analyzing. The era of Paisley was definitely during that impulsive time.

One February day, Jon came to visit me in Nashville, and I proclaimed (without very much thought) that I wanted a puppy. A few hours later, Jon and I were driving to middle-of-nowhere Tennessee in search of a yorkie-poodle mixed puppy I saw advertised on an internet site. Now please note that I had no intentions of coming home with a puppy that day, but you know how it works. The universe seems to makes it physically impossible for people to just browse for puppies or cars. Truly, they must be the most popular impulse buys. Well, my excursion for puppy shopping was no different. We ended up a the home of a middle age woman and a her four-year old son. They seemed nice enough, but I was a bit alarmed by their young son twirling around their pet snake. Needless to say, I wanted to see the puppy, tell them “I will think about it,” and run. However, I was immediately sold when I met Paisley. She was a cuddly ball of fur that hopped instead of walked. Yes, I said hopped. Her owner thought it was a good idea to cage her with their pet rabbit.  I  then found out that she was born on January 25th, which just so happened to be the day Jon and I officially became a couple, and that she was the last puppy of the litter because people didn’t find her as attractive as her brothers and sisters. Well, after hearing all of this, there was no way I could leave this puppy behind, right??! She was sure to either be eaten by that snack or spend her life thinking she was a bunny rabbit. Needless to say, Paisley came home with us that day, and I still consider her a “rescue.”

I know refer to Paisley as my dog that I put up for adoption. No, I didn’t really put her up for adoption, but  she is now in my mothers loving custody. Three years ago, I moved to San Diego for a job, but I couldn’t take Paisley with me immediately due to my new roommate having a pit bull. My mom reluctantly volunteered to watch Paisley for a period of time; however, when I came home to retrieve her, my mom refused to give her up.  Paisley became accustomed to freshly cooked eggs for breakfast, going to the doggy spa every other week, and adored her new princess bed and abundance of toys. It was clear that my mother adored this dog, and there was no way I could take that joy away. In fact, my mom thought/thinks so highly of Paisley, that she frequently gets our names confused. Yes, I get called Paisley on a frequent basis. So all of you out there that complain because your mom gets yours and your siblings names mixed up, no more complaining!!

I occasionally get Pais on weekends and she still acknowledges me as mom, but my mother is very clearly her “new mom.”  Nonetheless, you will still find tons of pictures of the “little one” on here.



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