My husband and I both grew up in families with dogs. After we got married we inherited a dog, but our apartment was small and we didn’t keep her long. Then we bought our house and rescued a puppy from rather terrible living conditions. She had Parvo when we rescued her (we didn’t know that at the time) and she ended up costing us a pretty penny to fix. The vet told us she wouldn’t last long. She lasted about eight years before we had to have her put to sleep because she was very sick again.
During that eight year time my son was born (also my daughter, but she wasn’t as attached). My son became super attached to that dog. When the time came to say good-bye, it was hard on all of us. We (my husband and I) said we weren’t ready to do that to our son again. We took a “no more dogs” pledge.
Fast forward a lot of years. My son (now 11) started asking for a dog. He was adamant that he would care for it (feed it, walk it, etc). Somehow we caved…I’m still not sure how that happened. But the short version is…we got a dog! We adopted him and, as my husband says, we won the Humane Society lottery!
His name is Niko. For the record, I didn’t name him that. He came with that moniker. If I had named him that it would’ve been spelled like Nico De Angelo from the Percy Jackson series, I promise! (Isn’t that a cool name for a black dog who is quiet yet lovable?) He is well-behaved, smart, and fun. He listens to us, loves to walk, and enjoys riding in the car.
I know I’ve been quiet lately, but just remember I am probably training or hanging with this cool guy. You can forgive me for that, right?
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