For about the three years, my mom had been searching for a dog. She was spurred when my sister finally left for college, figuring that the house would feel empty with only her and my dad. HA! Throw a party you losers! Almost every Saturday morning, my mom would go to dog kennels throughout NJ searching for the right dog. Occasionally I'd come with her--even though I fucking detest the smell of kennels and, get this, I'm allergic to dogs. Beside my mom I'd endure teary eyes, random itchy patches on my neck, and the ubiquitous stench of dog urine all so that I could support her in a seemingly endless search for a canine companion. Unfortunately for my mom, every time she had her heart set on a pup, the kennel notified us that the dog had already been claimed. She even got to the point where, dare I say it, she considered getting a cat. WTF, Christine?! (That's my mom's name, not the cat's name). Her search for a dog seemed like it was slowing down just as the tendrils of psychosis slowly crept into my mother's mind. She's old as fuck--like almost 60. Until one day, I received a text from her saying, "I'm putting a deposit down for a cockapoo!" So, that's how we bought Maya. Go ahead, chastise us all you'd like for buying a dog as opposed to adopting. But to be fair, we purchased her from a breeder who WAS adopted. So therefore my family supports adoption. Unconditionally. Well, I guess we conditionally support adoption since we have yet to support canine adoption. Regardless, we can live with a clean conscious knowing that we contributed to adoption of some sort. And after all, isn't it more important for us to support our fellow adopted human's wallets over adopted dogs that don't have wallets and can't say phrases like, "Yer gun'uh wanna git a kinnel fer that lil doggie, aiiiite?!" I'm happy my mom finally found the right dog, and c'mon, how can anyone not love something that looks like this??