I am dog crazy. Always have been, which was a little hard growing up with a Mom most definitely not dog crazy, but she's a good Mom and sacrificed her clean smelling, flea free house so my sisters and I could have dogs, one at at time, not like me with my three dogs.
I got Murphy from the pound when he was about 6 years old and I was about 13, which turned out to be the perfect age for both of us. I was old enough to take care of him, old enough to say he moves with me when I move, and old enough to make that true.
He was patient and good and loyal. He never warmed up to my husband (who he'd known for almost as long as he knew me) but that was okay. Murphy moved with me from Alaska, to Washington, to California and finally, New Jersey. He did the 12 hour drive from California to Washington so many times, he could have driven the way himself, blindfolded. He suffered through bows in his fur and blue sweaters during winter and was okay with that.
Then one day he was gone. His back finally gave out and he couldn't move and I had to make that hard decision most pet owners fear and dread. It was the right one, but after 17 years, I still miss him!
Years later, our kids were older, we had a nice big yard, and we decided to get a dog. Specifically, a puppy. I'd never had a puppy before and it was all new and strange and terribly hard! My Grandma (who is just as dog crazy as me) asked me if I loved our pup Emma Beagle as much as I had loved Murphy....I said no way. There was no dog who would ever knock Murphy out of his spot as best dog ever.
Well, I was not quite right! Emma (and Sarah and Olive) are just as beloved as Murphy, just as spoiled, just as treasured, just as naughty (the garbage is a universal dog love) and just as perfect. I count myself lucky to be living dog crazy with such great dogs. And a great husband who put up with one dog who actively hated him....and said it was okay to try again and own three dogs at once!
This post was inspired by prompt #2 over at Mama's Losin' It!