My story of (Dog) adoption:
I hate the question “Where did you get Fezziwig?” Some people are wanting to talk breeders (Fezzi is a blonde Scotty which is more on the rare side, so they want to know where they can get their own Fezziwig- he is pretty irresistible) or they assume he is some sort of terrier mix and want to talk adoption shelters. I dread having to tell them he is from a pet store. I hate pet stores, I rarely go into them (pre and post Fezziwig), but was talked into just taking a wander with my sister. 30 minutes later we were bringing a dog home.
It has been almost 5 years and I do not regret our decision one bit, but it has made me even more aware of the nastiness of puppy mills and pet stores. I am not in denial, there is no doubt in my head that Fezzi came from a puppy mill. I hate thinking about it, but that is the fact. He has battled health issues his whole life. Not so bad that he does not have a good quality of life, but enough to set his moms back thousands of dollars over the years. He had so many issues as a puppy that I was convinced that whoever would have bought him (is not us) would get fed up and give him to a shelter, which in turn I would have adopted him from. Basically he was destined to be mine; I just cut out the middle man.
So now let’s journey to a time that that Fezziwig was not mine. My sister and I were ready for a dog, so we sent out some inquires on a few pooches we were interested in from shelters. All of them came back with rejections of “we do not have enough experience” or (my personal favorite) “we work too much.” When I would reply back with some sassy comment like “don’t I need to work to provide for a dog?” there was just silence. Feeling down after yet another rejection, we were at a low point, which brought us to the pet store. Our intention was NOT to leave with a dog but we did.
I have even applied for another dog since I got Fezziwig and was even denied then. I volunteer at shelters and will talk to anyone about the importance of adopting (plus will NEVER get a dog from a breeder or pet store again) but it always makes me sad. One day I know the right shelter pooch will be mine and all of this will make sense. All I know now is that Fezziwig was meant to be my Netflix watching side kick, no matter where he came from.