Dave hates Sarah McLachlan

We have Verizion Fios HD. Over the last week or so I've learned that the ASPCA is a major advertiser on most of the "cable" HD channels (Food Network, Nat Geo, Green Network). That damn "In the Arms of an Angel" commercial makes me cry. Every.damn.time. It doesn't help that's it's an especially long commercial - I pause the TV, and try going back to live TV, and it's still on. Changing the channel seems to be the key. I guess it's not really hate, because she's doing good things with the commercials, but they're hard to watch when they're in the hourly rotation.

In honor of the sadness of the commercial, here's Dave's rescue story, which some of you may know, some may not.

I rented my first post-college apartment in 2001. After a couple of weeks alone, I decided I wanted a dog. There was a show on Animal Planet that featured a Boston named Daisy, and I became obsessed with these "ugly," yet incredibly cute, dogs. I searched petfinder.org for months prior to the move, hoping that I'd find an apartment that allowed dogs and then find a perfect dog to adopt. I didn't know much about dogs or breed rescue, but, in classic Abbie tradition, I bought a Dogs for Dummies book and an adoption book that gave me some general knowledge. After moving, found an all breed rescue group, Animal Rescue and Referral, that had a Boston. The woman I spoke with said that "Axel" was still with his family, but they had surrendered him and were willing to keep him until a new family was found. She said someone was looking at him that day, but would put me down as a backup. She tried telling me about a couple of other dogs they had, but I had my heart set on a dog whose picture wasn't on the site.

A few days later, she called to tell me that they had several people go to look at Axel, and none of them wanted him. She said that he was hyper, but the family reported he was trained. I called a friend because Mike wasn't available for the drive to Levittown, and off we went. We were greeted by a skinny, jumpy dog that promptly peed at our feet. But he was damn cute. So, off we went, along with his crate. We got him home, and he didn't want to go to the bathroom outside. So up we went, where he again peed.

Mike arrived at home, took one look at him and says "he's big. Bigger than I thought he'd be." To which Dave responded by pooping. The rest of the weekend followed that theme, with the exception of nighttime, where he whined in his crate (he was supposedly crate-trained mind you). We reluctantly allowed him into bed at 3 am on night two, when any doubts we had disappeared. We were in love.

The ARR lady was due to visit in a couple of days to do a home check, but had family issues that prevented her from coming. She finally made it in two weeks, and was overjoyed to see how happy we all were. We asked about changing the name, and she thought it was fine, considering his past. And Dave it was. No reason, really, we just think people names for dogs are funny.

After four months, Dave finally learned that walks (and not the crate) were for going to the bathroom and marginally passed obediance school. Prior to living with the other family, Dave was in a pet store, meaning he likely was from a puppy mill. We love our puppy mill, rescued, not breed standard yet still purebred Boston. And I think the feeling's mutual.

Aaaaaand, in the time it took me to write this post, the damn commercial came on again!!