For years, my home was full of pets: two cats and two dogs, all “rescues.” Over time, one by one, our animal companions died. First, Nile the cat, at age 19 or so. Then his sidekick, Sid. Next, we said a tearful goodbye to Mondo, our Jack Russell Terrier. Two years later, Poco, a Cairn Terrier, reached the end of his road.

Without a dog, the house felt empty. Rather than adopt, we decided to choose a puppy that met all our criteria: a canine companion sturdy enough to trail-run with my husband, small enough to travel comfortably in a crate, and friendly with children and other dogs. While hiking last year in England, we’d met some adorable Border Terriers. This rough-coated British breed is affectionate, easy-going, fun-loving, and good with people, especially kids. Check. Check. Check. The search was on for a local breeder.

One name kept coming up: Tim Carey in Canby, Oregon, about a half-hour south of Portland. He was expecting a litter in December. Before agreeing to meet us, we had to complete a detailed questionnaire. “Sheesh,” I said. “Imagine if you had to go through such a rigorous application to buy a gun!” Our answers seemed to satisfy Tim, who invited us down to Canby. “My current litter has five boys and a girl. Why don’t you meet them; see if one of them feels right. They’re only six weeks old, too young to separate from their mother, but you can play with them and get an impression.” We decided to stay overnight in Portland, and meet Tim and the pups the next morning.

It was cold in January. So, even at full battery, starting out, my VW electric car had only 187 miles of “juice,” enough to reach a charging station in Vancouver, WA. But as we drove, remaining mileage dropped fast, making for a nail-biting ride. Pulling into the charging station, there were only 13 miles to spare. Whew!

That evening there wasn’t time to explore Portland’s downtown, but we enjoyed a fabulous fish dinner at Cabezon, in Hollywood, a vibrant Northeast neighborhood. We made a mental note to come back and explore the shops around Sandy Boulevard, maybe take in a movie at the Hollywood Theatre, built in 1926 and listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

At Tim’s house, six puppies crawled all over us, tucking their little heads between our thighs and elbows. Even at that young age, some personality was starting to show. Each wearing a different-colored collar, we tried to differentiate between Miss Pink and Mr. Green, etc. Messrs. Brown and Silver seemed the most alert and friendly. Tim, who had decades of breeding and judging experience, noted our preferences. “Come back in March, and we’ll figure out which one’s the best match for you,” he said. Meanwhile, we showed pictures to our nine- and five-year-old granddaughters. “So cute!” they exclaimed. “The color is like a mud puddle,” said one. “Let’s call it Muddle.” And so, a name was chosen.

On March 1st, it was time to drive down again and claim our puppy. Based on temperament testing, Tim declared that Mr. Brown best-suited us. This time, we weren’t taking any chances on losing EV range. We drove the Honda Passport to Portland the night before, and checked into the Hyatt Regency near the convention center.

Tri-met, Portland’s light rail, stops right outside the hotel. Eighteen minutes after hopping on, we were downtown. Walking to Powell’s Books, we discovered Pinkham Millinery, a custom hat maker. The owner, Dayna Pinkham told us how and why she began making hats in 1982. After trying on straw and felt hats, the award-winning “Traveler,” a collapsible natural fiber hat that folds like an envelope won me over. Perfect for summer vacation.

We spent the rest of the afternoon browsing Powell’s vast book sections before dining at Mediterranean Exploration Company. Then, settled in comfy armchairs at Living Room Theater, we watched the Bob Dylan movie, “A Complete Unknown.”

In the morning, Muddle greeted us with enthusiastic tail-wagging and curious sniffing. For weeks, Tim had systematically exposed the pups to unfamiliar sounds, objects, people, and experiences. Muddle was exceptionally chill, and followed us confidently. Stopping at a rest stop on the ride home, we marveled at how easily he allowed other dogs to approach him. Neither aggressive nor timid, he did his business, and returned to his crate without protest.

In less than three weeks, Muddle has totally captured my heart. Look for us in the small dog run at Luther Burbank Park. He’s the cute puppy. I’m the one with stars in her eyes.

Meanderings is a travel column by Mindy Stern, a Mercer Island resident whose essays can be found at www.mindysternauthor.com.

Photo by Mindy Stern Muddle, age 14 weeks.