That's Not My Name

Just a little backtracking, for those of you who don't know...

This is who started it all, where my journey began:

Atari

That handsome mutt is Atari, the love of my life. He belongs to my best friend and his boyfriend (yep, Atari has two dads). He's a husky Husky, weighing in at a lovable 80lbs. After about 5 minutes dog-sitting this sexy behemoth, I'd made up my mind: I needed a dog. Now.

Atari is the easiest dog in the entire world. I could leave him in my apartment (even with my closet door open!) while I was at work, and he wouldn't touch a thing. Not one wrinkle on the bedspread, or one shoe out of place. Needless to say, he may have definitely ruined me for other pups.

Handsome devil

Even though I knew I wouldn't find a dog as well behaved as Atari, I set out to find myself a canine companion on Petfinder. After weeks of near frantic searching for the perfect dog (in my price range), preferably a husky shmusky, I came across this gorgeous mug:

Photo has been altered.

They called her Mayer, and said she was looking for a forever home. She was perfect.

So I took a half-day off work, drove 45 minutes north to Cumming, Georgia, and checked her out for myself. I walked in, money in my back pocket, ready to walk out with a pup. The inbred, technically female, hillbilly at the front desk pointed me in the direction of Mayer's kennel, without moving an inch from her perch on a wobbly old desk chair. I entered the sad, concrete doggie jail, and instantly saw my dog. She was howling her ass off. She was leaning against her cage, begging to be taken home. Such a skinny little pretty thing. I went to ask the genetic wonder at reception, and off-handedly inquired if they were indeed serious about sending her to a home with a fenced-in yard. "Oh yessssss," she drawled obnoxiously, and self-righteously. "I could neeeever let her go to an apartment. She's a huuuuusky. Oh no no no. If she ever got out your door, she'd be gone."

I fell apart. "What?" I said. And she nodded, looking at me like I was a dumb child. I left in tears, with a broken heart, and without my dog.

I called my best friend Scoty on the ride home, sobbing and utterly inconsolable. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll get her for you."

Two days, and countless anxious tears later, Scoty sent me this picture from the pound:

getting adopted

My pup! The troll at the front desk hadn't even inquired about their living situation, especially after they mentioned Atari. They waited to get her checked up, made her appointment for getting spayed, and brought her home to me. When I first saw her, she was embarrassingly (and somewhat disappointingly) already attached to Scoty... Then she ran into my room, checked out my closet, immediately fetched us a pair of my panties, and laid them at our feet, haha. Regardless, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and the best gift I've ever received.

First day home

So, for the first few days, she didn't eat... or poop for that matter. But I don't blame her - she didn't even have a forever name yet! While her Petfinder profile said "Mayer" (apparently pronounced "mayor"), I tried to find her a more suitable name. Days into the adoption, I noticed her name tag from her previous home said "Maya." Obviously The Creature in Cumming had effed up her name, with her hideously unnattractive accent.

I tried to find her tough, Icelandic or Nordic-sounding names. Isis, Juno, Ruby, Katarzyna (Kat for short), and Zelda (to go with Atari) topped the list. But none of them seemed to fit. This was not a tough, scary dog. This was a scared, skinny year-old puppy. "Mila," I called. She barely noticed. And then someone suggested "Mia."

She's a Mia. And she's mine.