I have a major case of puppy love; as in, my dogs are the loves of my life – my babies. Sammy – the dashing gent in the blue – is the first pup I had. It was 10.5 years ago that my dad and I conspired to trick my mom into getting a dog. I was in high school and had been begging for a dog for years. We tricked my mom into making a trip to a local shop and her firm belief of “no dog” started to crack. I convinced her to go back and just look into another dog; we in fact left after we put down a deposit on Sammy. I bought him myself, and he was supposed to be my dog. However, I was in high school and he took to my mom so he became her dog – especially after I left for college. Sammy is just about the calmest most mild mannered dog, until someone gets to close to someone he loves and then he loses his marbles a bit.
About a year and a half ago, my mother called me after dropping Sammy off for a grooming that she had seen the cutest little puppy in the shop. Long story short: I ended up with Emmie, the lovely lady in black. She does live with me (most of the time), currently she’s on vacation at my parent’s house with her best friend Sammy. Emmie is precocious, rambunctious, and every bit the sassy little girl. She’s also still a puppy, which means she’s always getting into some kind of trouble. When you don’t hear her, you tend to get a little concerned about what she’s gotten into.
I’m one of those crazy people who treat their dogs like children: they even have their own carseats. I completely spoil them rotten and am very proud of it. Truthfully, they bring so much joy that it’s hard not to love them to bits. I will also add that getting pictures with them is kindof impossible. The second we walked outside, they tried to take off in different directions. All they wanted to do was run (or walk), go smell things, and pee. All my attempts to get them to pose were a complete bust, they were too excited.