A month into our marriage, my new husband and I brought a scruffy, six-month-old Boston terrier to our home in North Carolina. We had driven an hour to visit a breeder and then had fallen for the pup the breeder called a “misfit.”
“Li’l Rocky don’t meet the breed standards since he weighs over 30 pounds already,” the breeder had warned. “Also, his nose ain’t the preferred Boston nose. It’s long instead of stubby, and it’s out of proportion with his body.” As he droned on, I studied the dog’s short legs, stout torso, protruding eyes, and fell in love.
