A small (I swear) rant about pet adoption...with a cameo by Clothilde!

So one of my biggest pet peeves, aside from homeless people and sneakers on men, is store- or breeder-bought dogs. People, if you want a dog there are plenty of perfectly good ones out there for dirt-cheap and on Death Row, waiting to be adopted before being given The Shot and tossed into a dumpster.

When I was a kid my parents bought us children a dog from a breeder in Los Angeles. We'd never had a dog in the family before and it was promised to us in exchange for behaving ourselves for the weeks that followed my parents buckling us into our red Isuzu Trooper (this was the mid '90s) in Boston and driving cross-country through the southern United States. Three kids in an SUV through the desert. You do the math. A dog was excellent blackmail.

After what felt like years on the road (and my first driving lesson, on an isolated strip of highway somewhere in the middle of Texas) my parents made good on their promise and we were bought a dog once we hit the West Coast. In my defense I was a child, I didn't know anything about breeders or shelters. I just knew I wanted a dog. Now that I'm older and I know better, these days it kills me -- kills me -- when I still see sane, responsible adults buying animals as if they were commodities.  

Enter Clothilde. 

Burt and Clothilde (who you may know as J's brother and brother's girlfriend) were in the market for a dog recently. Something small, that they could keep in a pen while they're both at work every day. When assessing their choices it did not help that they they'd fallen in love with my sister's maltipoo (who I am coincidentally currently babysitting). My sister bought said maltipoo from a local breeder against my insistence that it was a bad decision, and now everyone -- including Clothilde -- loves the goddamn dog. Which definitely takes steam out of my cause.

So Clothilde texted me the other night, asking where my sister got her maltipoo. I replied that I didn't know, but then went on a Bob Barker-style mini-text-rant about how adoption is a better choice than buying, blah blah blah. WELP,  what do I get a few days later? A picture she texts me of their new breeder-bought maltipoo, Chai (named because Clothilde is obsessed with drinking Chai. Sigh.). I would post a picture of Chai here but unfortunately I can't snag one off Facebook so here's a lookalike I found on the web:

I know, miniature polar bear, very cute, etc. etc. etc. (PS: It better be cute, they spent $650 on the thing.) But every time a dog like this is bought a dog somewhere else dies! <said between exasperated breaths> I get that most people are specific about what breed or color or gender they want, but this isn't like shopping for a sweater. It's a living, breathing thing. I'm sure any dog within certain parameters will suffice.