I'm a dog lover. First there was Cookie the mutt, when I was a baby. I learned how to walk by holding on to her fur and moving with her. That dog put up with a lot. Then there was Princess, the little runty yellow lab that could. My family loved that dog so much we'd regularly give up our seats in the car for her. Next it was Cinnamon the Min Pin and Bella the Italian Greyhound. Cinnamon was my first dog as an adult and will always hold a special place in my heart. After several amazing years together, it came time for me to make a tough decision about Cinnamon's quality of life. Living in NYC wasn't right for her; I couldn't give her the space and freedom she needed to be a happy, healthy dog. I made one of the hardest decisions ever in my life and gave her up. She's super happy and well cared for now, but in June of 2012 I was left with a broken heart. What follows is the story of I came to find Rugby.
After Cinnamon was gone, my roommate's dog Sophie tried to console me; we'd go on walks or to the park, but it just wasn't the same. It was borrowed time. I was pretty much paralyzed for those first few weeks, but then I slowly started to see the situation as an opportunity to find my perfect match. I began my search and was dead certain that my future canine companion would be three things: adopted from a shelter, smallish like 25 lbs or less, and an English Bulldog named Winston with just the right amount of pudge. I have always wanted to be an english bulldog pet parent. I had the name and all of our adventures planned out. We would walk the streets of New York in search of the perfect brunch place or go for long runs on the East River. We would hike Vermont to find cheese, humorously named ice cream, and great views. We would snuggle on the couch reading books about history.