For this past Christmas, the most wonderful boy in the world (a statement completely void of irony) did something that we've been threatening to do since about day three of our relationship. He upped and bought me a dog.
Last year, for my 26th birthday, he came to pick me up for a very nice dinner out, carrying a box with air holes cut out. It was a puppy-sized box. Inside the box was a stuffed dog. While I was glad that I didn't have to kill him for getting a dog without talking to me first, I was also really dissapointed that he hadn't gotten a dog without talking to me first.
This year, after a really hard Autumn Quarter, we just decided that we were going to go for it. We did some research, looked at breeds (we had it narrowed down to two) and found an awesome breeder 2 1/2 hours away in Connorsville, Indiana. We drove through a small snowstorm on a Sunday morning, stayed at this gracious woman's house for almost five hours, and came back with Turkey.
As soon as we were in cell phone range, we called just about every person we knew. Turkey slept the whole way home. He had no idea what he was getting into.
