It was a beautiful May day in rural West Virgina four years ago when - totally out of the blue - we became dog parents. Billy and I and a bunch of our friends had just gotten done rafting the New River when we were offered a free dog. Lunch was included with our package, but I felt gypped. Lunch was typically good, warm comfort-type food, like roast beef and mashed potatoes, not a hot dog. Oops, wrong kind of dog.
While we were out on the rapids, someone at North American River Runners found 5 puppies on the side of the road. I instantly wanted one. Billy said no. My friend Tyler said no. My brother said no. I'm pretty sure everyone said no. But I was determined. I walked over after lunch to express my interest, only to be told all of the puppies had found a home, including the one following me around on his teeny-tiny little legs. I was crushed. Which meant I really wanted him.
Later that night, while drinking, er, sitting around the campfire, one of the NARR guides came by and asked if I was still interested in the puppy. Um, YES! That then-7-pound cotton ball hasn't left our side since. Literally. He's now a 97-pound lap dog. And I couldn't imagine our home without him.