When I was a about 5 years old, I used to cry often because I wanted a dog so badly.
My mom would lovingly buy me stuffed dogs and then encourage me to dream and pray for an actual dog.
A couple of years later, I learned the roadblock on the way to Dogville slept down the hall from me and loved the Boston Red Sox–my dad.
One morning before school, my sister and I ambushed my father.
As I can remember, we let him have a little coffee and then launched “Operation Let Us Get a Dog.”
Of course, once we started, my mom chimed in to back us up, as she had been the main witness to my yearning for a dog.
I can still remember the look on my dad’s face as his young daughters made the case for a furry family member. He was smiling but his eyes looked sad.
Despite the pain my dad still felt over the loss of our first family dog Chivas, who was tragically hit by a car when I was a toddler, he knew it was time to welcome another dog into the house.
After all, he grew up around dogs and always wanted us to have a similar experience.
Looking back on it now, agreeing to add a dog to our family was a very selfless act by my father who wanted the best for his daughters.
One rainy November night after all our homework was done, my parents, my sister and I hopped into the car and drove an hour from home to pick up our new family member.
We walked into the breeder’s house and saw two fluff balls running around.
There was the little guy who would be our Marty and his sister.
I was in love from the minute I laid eyes on Marty.
On the car ride home, I remember asking my mom if the dog was thirsty and if we should stop to get water.
From the minute he entered my world I wanted to surround Marty with love and comfort.
At this point in our lives, my sister and I fought constantly.
However, on the first night Marty spent in our home, my sister and I curled up together in her bed while Marty laid below us in his crate.
The poor dog howled and cried the majority of the night as puppies often do when away from their litter.
The lack of sleep wasn’t a problem because even as a 9-year-old, my heart felt complete with Marty in our house.
My dream had come true.
That night my pre-teen heart was stamped with paw prints which with time haven’t faded one bit.
When did you become a dog lover?
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