Oh Baxter.

So now that I am officially an adult and living in a house now, which may seem small but it's ridiculously large when you're the only one living in it, I decided that I wanted a dog. My parents actually suggested it first on account of me feeling a bit lonely having moved to a new town without knowing too many people around. And who am I to refuse a dog when offered? I wanted an older dog though so since I work all day, I wouldn't have to housebreak it. Although I love the mastiff, I couldn't get one because a big dog would make the house seem smaller but I dared to dream. So what did I get?

On Saturday, my mom, dad, and I went to Petland and there he was. A 4 month old Westie. He was everything I never wanted. We bought him and I named him Baxter, a name which came to me when I was oddly walking past the dairy case of a grocery store. My dad was thankful I didn't walk past salami at the time. Who knows what other name I could have come up with using that way of thinking?

Driving 5 hours from Ohio to Indiana with a puppy is not recommended. Even though Baxter does own a crate, his high pitched barking and whining have forever hurt my ears and this is a girl who has played drums since 5th grade. He is adorable. I can't hate him - even though he pees and poos on my floor and doesn't understand what grass is or what I want him to do when we go outside. He is something wonderful to come home to and his over-hyper greetings always make me smile no matter how awful work was. Still... my parents weren't lying to me when I was younger. Puppies are a lot of work. Baxter is the same as a 2 year old. I can never take my eyes off of him. At least now, I can speak from first hand experience when my kids someday beg me for a puppy. That'll be a hell no!