I was eight years old when my parents finally decided to get our family a dog. My dad decided that getting a dog would be a good addition to the family. Before my dad revealed to me and my brothers he made sure that we were saying that we were the ones who would take care of the dog. We even managed to write up a contract on who would feed, water, and walk the dogs and during what days.
During dinner my dad broke the news that we were going to get a dog on Saturday. The plan was that he would bring me and my brother up to Wisconsin to pick up the dog from the breeder. My younger brother, Kevin, had his first ever soccer game and my mom decided that his first game was more important than picking out the dog.

As we packed the car to get ready for our long journey the sun seemed to smile at us with its warmth. The warmth from the sun felt inviting and welcoming as we drove the long five hour drive up to the northern part of Wisconsin. Me and my older brother, Tom, were constantly annoying my dad with the usual “Are we there yet?” I felt the anticipation eat away at me during the car ride. I could not read, sleep or, play the new gameboy advanced that Tom had brought. My dad had already picked out the breed, but we had a different idea in our heads of what a standard poodle would look like.
Arriving at the dog breeder’s home a German shepard was the first thing to greet us. The German shepard was taller than me and could probably pin me and my brother down with little to no effort. It was scary seeing a dog that big for the first time, but it was very friendly around us.

The breeder led us through a system of fences separating different breeds of dogs over to a pen of standard poodles. The puppies ran up to the fence of the pen all wagging their tails. The breeder took out about 10 dogs from the litter and let ys chose one. After a good hour of playing with the ten dogs simultaneously we had to make a final decision on a dog.
All the puppies had the same black colored coat but, most of the puppies had different lengths of coats and others held different degrees of their curly hair. The puppies’ fur held a comforting feeling almost like a warm welcoming family. It was hard to pick out just one from the litter. Being an 8 year old at the time I had concluded it would be the best idea to pick out the smallest dog. My dad approved knowing the smallest dog would most likely live the longest and also he wanted a smaller dog.

While my dad was getting the paperwork of adopting the puppy my brother and I had the pleasure of observing a pen of newly born puppies. They were abnormally small in comparison to the puppy we had just picked out. Most of them rolled around in the piles of shredded up newspaper while the others were crowded around a bowl of water. Among the puppies I could see two chocolate labs, a pug, and four others of an unrecognizable breed.

When we were ready to leave we put the puppy in a newly obtained kennel we purchased from the breeder and we placed her into the trunk. During the drive home we heard the puppy whimpering in the back of the trunk. I felt the guilt of ripping away a three month old puppy from her parents. It was hard to listen to the whines of the dog. The car seemed to lose its warmth. I moved to the back seat where I could attempt to reach our dog. As I stayed in the back as an attempt to comfort the dog I felt the warmth of the car return.
We had yet to settle on a name for the dog and it would take another 2 days before my family would decide on the name Pepper.