My tinydog was sort of a souvenir from attending my husband's family reunion. The reunion was on the family farm, and Tinydog found me while I was trying to make friends with the barn cats.
Tinydog was immediately convinced he belonged with me, and followed me everywhere for the rest of the weekend.
He still had all his baby teeth, and weighed about 4 pounds. I figured somebody must be missing him, but I couldn't find any farmhands on the property. It was 105 degrees outside, and there was no food or water left outside for him, either. I brought him to meet the relatives.
My father-in-law is a fairly normal coastal southern California guy. His family is a little more...rural.
They're also southern Baptist preachers. All of them. Men. Women. Children.
As extremely liberal progressive educated people, we have to watch what we say around them.
We only see them a couple of times a year, which is kind of nice because I can use the practice at shutting up.
Anyway, the relatives didn't think I needed to worry about Tinydog being, well, a tiny dog.
(Tinydog did not go back outside, and when we left we took Tinydog with us. He stills follows me everywhere.)