As I was sitting in my living room, engrossed in a self-help book about finding the perfect partner to complete me, I got a call from my teenage daughter Jordan that changed everything.
I was in my mid-40s and felt extremely low about myself and my life. I was divorced, had a few unsuccessful relationships in recent years, and I felt I’d failed at finding true love.
“Please, Mom, it’s so cute and tiny!” Jordan was at a photo shoot in Hollywood. The makeup artist had a puppy with her, and its sibling still needed a home.
“Just our three cats – that’s what we’re allowed,” I reminded her. The apartment rules I had signed 11 years ago after my split with her dad were ironclad.
“No one will know! I’ll never ask for anything else ever again!” she promised, and because she was my only child, she always got her way.
Within a week, a tired-looking lady from a dog rescue organisation brought a fit-in-your-palm-sized black chihuahua to our home. We named him Preston, and we soon discovered he had a big bark!
When we were told to move out or get rid of the dog, the decision was easy. We moved. Ironically, Preston never became my daughter’s dog. He was mean and bit...
English (US)