My daughter and I went to the local shelter to adopt a pet. One friendly dog kept barking at us but we couldn't choose so we left. We went the next week and the dog was still there. When he saw my daughter he immediately started barking. The staff said he hadn't barked at anyone else so we decided to take him home. My daughter named him "Blackie" and it definitely fit. I wanted a mature, house-broken dog; they assured us he was at least 2 but as soon as we got home he promptly urinated on the carpet and chewed up a new sneaker. I said he had to go back but when I looked into his eyes I knew I couldn't return him to the cage he'd just left. A vet visit explained his behavior - he was just a puppy, about 6 months old. He learned quickly and became my constant companion, particularly during a very painful divorce. Blackie loved me when I couldn't love myself. Sadly, he developed diabetes late in life so my schedule was centered around his two daily shots but we couldn't get his condition under control. When it became apparent that his health was failing and vital organs were shutting down the vet said it was time to let him go. I held him in my arms and cried uncontrollably as the drugs were injected and he passed into the sunset. He was with us 13 years; it's been almost 9 since he's been gone and I still think about him every day. I know he's somewhere playing with all the other rescued "babies" and he will always be my special boy.

(Ms) Eddie James
Columbus, GA