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Ben Westhoff

Anna and I have found an apartment. Located deep in the New Jersey suburbs, it's the ground floor of a house, actually. It's much bigger than our place in Hoboken, but then again, most people's crawl spaces beneath their staircases are bigger than our place in Hoboken. We've got plenty of space for storage, including ample closets, a basement and, most importantly, our own washer and dryer.

There's even a backyard, if you consider a few unpaved square feet in front of the driveway a backyard. This will come in handy, however, because, despite our previous fears, we found a landlord who is forward-thinking enough to let us have a dog. We think he's going to let us have a dog, that is. According to the terms of the lease, our little canine friend has to be pre-approved, presumably to make sure he or she's not too big or loud.

In any case, we have begun scouring the earth (or at least the Internet) for some fine un-feathered friends. Anna really fell hard for an adorable abused puppy named Raina -- who had a pirate-like black patch over his eye -- but when she called to ask about him he'd already been adopted. Arrrrgh!

We're also keen on this terrier/Labrador-retriever Mix, this wirehaired-terrier mix, not to mention Bo and Burger here. Tell us in the comments which dog you like best. Oh, and don't even think about swooping in and adopting them. At least, not until we've made our decision.




    

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