Thursday, September 20, 2012

Puppy Love

Weighing in at a whopping 1.13 pounds, this is the cutest creature to ever exist.  He's name is Mosley.  He poops, he pees, he loves toes and he chews on EVERYTHING.  But because he is this dang cute... It all seems SO ADORABLE!

Going about getting Mosley was quite an adventure.  After J's test Monday (which was also J's birthday), we started on the long trek to Phillippi, WV.  For some reason, all of the locals seem to think everywhere in WV takes about an hour and a half to get to.  On the contrary... Phillippi was about a 4 hour drive down the most winding and terrifying road in WV.  J and I were fine with the long drive UNTIL we tried to call Wilma, the dog breeder, to get directions to her place and we got a busy signal.  J continued to call and call and call and call.  Getting more and more worried that he and Leah were scammed by a sweet old lady with every busy tone.  Wilma is about 75 years old, and her husband is about 100.  I wouldn't say they were the most technologically up-to-date older couple.  One would probably even venture to say they don't own a cell phone, but Wilma knew J and I were suppose to meet her in the "city" between 3-5pm so we figured she would start to wonder why her phone hasn't rung, and why these people who paid a pretty penny for a puppy haven't showed up.  We decided to keep driving and hope Wilma would call.  We continued to make our way to Phillippi, and never heard from dear sweet Wilma.  

J, Leah (my sister) and I decided to play Nancy Drew and hunt little old Wilma from Phillippi down.  Our detective skills quickly proved to be IMPRESSIVE.  My sister gave us Wilma's last name and husband's name; which we then googled in hopes of finding an address.  We found this... RR 4 BOX 291A.  If you aren't familiar with Rural Routes, it basically means you live in the West Virginia hills that the movie WRONG TURN was modeled after.  These Rural Routes are not true addresses.  They are only helpful for the postal service.  They make NO sense to anyone else, and they do not in ANY way show up on google maps.  I know this, because I too live on a Rural Route. (joy!)

When J and I finally made it to Phillippi, we decided to just pick random streets to drive down and look for "RR 4" on mailboxes.  We found RR 2, RR 3, but no RR 4.  That's when I decided to call the local post office.  A nice woman informed me that while she does not have the exact address, she does know that RR 4 is near The Old Barn Country Store.  Then, my lovely phone decided to cut out before I could ask her for directions to this Old Barn Country Store.  Well played, AT&T.

J and I were left to old school defenses.  Being that neither one of us really have a great sense of direction,  finding Wilma became quite a man hunt.  We stopped at every gas station we saw until someone FINALLY knew where The Old Barn Country Store was.  The Old Barn Country Store was just that... an old barn turned country store, and right across the street from the country store was RR 4.  It was practically shining in all of it's Nancy Drew Mystery glory.  We were proud of our accomplishments, and THE SCENT OF PUPPY WAS NEAR!

We turned down RR 4 looking for BOX 291A, and realized we were only at BOX 2.  I knew this wasn't good, but it wasn't until I realized that each family plot had a BOX 2, BOX 2A, BOX 2B, BOX 2C, BOX 2D, BOX 2E, and even a BOX 2F (THIS is how you say BACK WOOD in West Virginiaese), when I realized this was really really bad.  We were still nowhere CLOSE to Wilma and puppy dog. We kept driving.  Thinking surely box 291A would show up soon.  We drove and drove and drove, and Finally... we found a woman walking her two children.  In shear puppy determination, I decided to just go for it.  "Excuse me, do you happen to know a Wilma who breeds Yorkies?"  

"Oh yea, Wilma's just around this curve.  Her farm backs up to this farm here."


We pulled up to a white house and knocked on the door.  A ferocious dog ran to our car door, and we pondered whether we should risks our lives and get out of the vehicle for about two whole seconds.  Then, in unison, J and I both looked at each other and smiled.  As if to say, "We've come this far... If we are meant to get mauled by a dog, I guess it's DESTINY."  We exited the vehicle and managed to make it to the front porch with only a few scratches and a case of attempted rape against the ferocious dog.  Even though this house was very sketchy and their dog was very mean,  I COULD HARDLY CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT!  J was telling me the whole way to the door (between doggy attacks), "Cap, if it's a scam I promise we will still get a puppy from SOMEWHERE."  (I picked a winner!)

The door opened, and J and I got the weirdest look of "who the hell are you?" from the woman who answered.

"Are you Mrs. Wilma?"


"Do you know Mrs. Wilma?"  (not ready to give up hope)

"Yea, she lives under the hill."

HALLELUJAH!  (again)

We pull up to Wilma's house and see her working outside on her bird cages.  I wanted to hate her.  I wanted to scream, "WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER YOUR FREAKING PHONE?"  But she was a cute old lady working on bird cages, and she had yorkies EVERYWHERE.  No part of me could have expressed my frustration with her.

Wilma-  "Well, there you are!  What took you so long?"

J- "We didn't have your address, and your phone was off the hook."

Wilma- (looking guilty, and obviously not understanding our 5 hour struggle to get here) "Well, you're here now."


* Note to self, when someone who is obviously very tired and frustrated with you comes to your home... Show them a puppy.

This little guy was worth it.

In two short days, Mosley has quickly captured the hearts of J and me.  He is the ONLY thing that can wake me up every morning at 3:30 and keep me up for hours with no coffee.  He currently goes everywhere with me, and he is no doubt already spoiled ROTTEN.  He has officially filled my friendless void.  : )

Enjoying J's left over Tbone.



  1. I loooove him! Be careful or you'll start having conversations with him (as I alluded to in my comment to Bri) and other dogs. Today Y had to stop me from talking to a dog that was sitting outside of a hardware store. He told me I talked to it for "6 seconds too long to be sane".

    I can't wait to hear about more adventures (that hopefully don't involve backwoods WV) with Mosley!

  2. Too late, Daci! I talk to him all the time in a horrible girly baby voice! :) J says the pitch I reach is unacceptable. (ha!)