We adopted Perry on September 2, 1996 when he was approximately 8 months old.
I say approximately because Scott and I are Perry's 4th owners, so we never did get a proper history for him. We never knew his true breed, his true birthday, or what horrible things happened to him before we finally met.
At the pound, he was the quietest one in the room. He just sat there and looked at us while all the dogs in the other kennels were barking hysterically to be picked. He had a stupid look on his face, and he was panting.
I asked to see him, and they opened the gate. I got down on my knees and pet him while he quietly took the love. He was easily the cutest doggy in the room. Right then I needed him. We looked at other dogs, but I kept thinking of the quiet one. I told Scott I wanted that one. He agreed.
Perry's name was not always Perry. He probably had a few names before his last. When we adopted him, his name was something that had been shortened to Peli, I think it was Italian.
Scott and I were so pleased to have adopted a dog that we felt the need to take him to our friend Kevin's new house to visit on the way home. Perry was trying to climb in the front seat, and would not stop looking out the front windshield. Scott was trying to drive, and getting really perturbed. Forgetting the name of this new dog in his backseat, Scott yelled "Perry! Back!" And Perry listened, and so he was named.
To be Continued...