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So when I was younger, age 9, my nan brought us home a puppy. I had her until she was 14 and now she is gone I seem to be spending my time going over her life, I guess that is a way we heal right...? We have started a page for her and other dogs we have of families and friends, the ones who make our lives special just like my Mistie Moon, to let them live on.

So to help her live on, here she is as a little cutie....What's the earliest photo of you and your pups?
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My dad was a one man rescue. He was forever bringing home dogs patching them up and rehoming them. A while back I was thinking about dogs and the image of a terrier dog called Harry popped into my head. So when I phoned my mum I asked who was harry? She had to think but then said OMG you were about 2 or 3 and dad bought home a scruffy terrier called Harry. She explained we hadnt been about to keep the dog because he didnt like children but she was amazed the memory had stuck..

All my life dogs came through our house one time dad when out with one dalmation and came home with two, he had met someone who was going to the vet to have his dog PTS because they couldnt cope with her (note this is nearly 50 years ago) so dad took her and found her a new home.

We never had much money, were never well off and yet somehow dad found a way to provide for these dogs and mum never complained even with the most difficult ones.

Photos ...there are none I dont think my parents even had a camera and photos were a luxury reseved for Christmas or weddings..
 

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6th grade, age 11. The dog and I bonded very tightly. The dog was always with me. My father taught me how to care for the dog.

I lost him while we were at the county fair the following year. The dog was left in an outside fenced area surround by a 4' cyclone fence. Somehow, he managed to escape. He was hit by a car and killed. The neighbor found the dog on the road and brought the dog to our home while I was searching the neighborhood.

I still miss that dog. He was a black miniature poodle. Nothing pampered about him. He was a robust rough and tumble buddy. Mom named him Pierre......I called him Pete. He responded to Pete.
 
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