Man's best friend...
In the past, I had no idea why dogs were called, "Man's best friend." Ten years ago I brought home my first puppy, a white lab looking thing I call a pure bred Resmut (reservation mutt). She had been abandoned, starving, on the school grounds, and had followed me around one day during the school picnic. How could I not take the creature home?
Scott said, "NO! Don't you know you'll have a three-year-old for fourteen years?" Well, Pooka is the best friend Scott, myself, and the grandkids could ever have.
She fetches, sits, lays down with her legs crossed like a lady, plays tug-o-war, high-fives, and heels. She follows the kids every where, and even pulls them along in the water (they hold on gently to her tail). She trained herself to "go" in the weeds; we walk her twice a day.
She sits with Scott at work at The Star Newspaper, and people come to the Star just to give Pooka treats.
She has the sweetest eyes. Al said when she was six, "I know she likes me because she has white eyelashes." She is only the best dog ever. Even our cat Stella, loves her and thinks she is her mom.
And now that ten years have passed, and she's slower and hurts, we all still adore her, and hope she remains our three-year-old for more years to come as our "best friend."
