About a year ago I got a dog. I had been threatening to do so for a while and my parents tried to dissuade me in their typical reverse psychology fashion by giving me a stack of dogs-will-ruin-your-life books along the lines of "Dogs - Terrible Idea" and "Regret City: Dogs" for my birthday last May. I had a feeling my parents would pull this sort of trick after my sister Jenna informed me that my parents described me in family therapy (to which I was not invited) as "irresponsible" and as "spending money wildly." I thanked my parents kindly for their jerk gift, but I was secretly shitting my pants about getting a dog. Apparently the way it works is that you just give some lady money and she gives you a dog and then you go home with it and have a panic attack.
I was slated to pick up Perry (aka Doodles) on Memorial Day weekend with my sister, Aliza. I had booked the finest car in the land - a Kia - through Hertz, but when we got to the rental agency, all they had left was a red Mustang which I guess in general is cool if you've appeared in Grease 2 but is actually NOT cool if a) you can't reach the pedals without laying down in the seat or b) are rolling up to "Honeydew Farms" Bedlington terrier farm.
When we showed up to the breeder's house, it was pretty much a dream come true. She had a Bedlington terrier mailbox, Bedlington lawn ornaments and trophies, "olde tyme" sepia photos of civil war Bedlington terrier veterans with muskets and dishware with Bedlingtons. The breeder was also wearing an amazing gold necklace with a Bedlington charm on it which I obviously Googled and bought ASAP. She lived alone with 13 Bedlingtons and had been reading a Dean Koontz novel when I showed up, which naturally qualified her to be my personal hero and mentor.
Anyway, I bring up Perry because his 1st birthday (April 27) is coming up and I will be throwing him a (virgin) margarita and Thai food birthday party in honor of his favorite cuisines. Also, if people could stop asking me, "How long do Bedlingtons typically live?" that would be great because I know for a fact that dogs live forever and if Perry ever dies (which he won't, luckily), I will very calmly hail a cab and request that it drive me into the Hudson.