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I know there's a lot of posts of this nature right now (favorite breed, what is your dogs name, so on,) but I'm still kind of new and I love reading all the stories and getting to know all the members here on the forum, and thought it might give some good insight for me!

What was your first dog? Was it a childhood dog, or was it a dog you made a conscious choice to get? How did you feel about the dog, what was your relationship to them? Do you have a picture?

Growing up, we were very poor, and my mom didn't like dogs. However, when her mother was getting elderly and wanted to move in to a smaller apartment with easier access, she offered her house to my mother with the condition that they keep and care for their beloved family dog. Her name was Tasha, she was a purebred Siberian Husky. She was 13 years old I believe, when we moved in. I was four.

Tasha was... Well, she was interesting. She was very large for a husky if I remember, about 60 pounds. She hated kids, though my brother and I were extremely well mannered around animals. She had terrible hip displasia, didn't like cats (and we had cats,) and the whole situation was one of those situations were it wasn't for the best, but there wasn't we could do.

She got his by a car when she was younger, and was on seizure meds. She would still have seizured, and became somewhat vicious when she was seizing. Even though my parents wanted to honor their agreement, they just didn't think the dog was safe to have around kids and cats and were always considering trying to rehome her. It just never happened.

She had killed one of our cats, and I was sure that it would be the last straw, but even though she didn't like me and wasn't very nice, I loved her dearly and tried my best to defend her. It wasn't her fault, she was having a seizure and the cat jumped on her. I somehow won.

During another seizure, she was yelping like she was pain, and I could not stop myself from trying to comfort her. She bit me and ripped off a huge chunk of my hand, but I kept trying to comfort her until she stopped seizing. My parents wanted to rehome her then too, but I still fought. I knew they wouldn't succeed in rehoming an elderly unfriendly dog on meds.

When she was 16, she escaped. I knew my parents were really just hoping they wouldn't be able to find her, but they looked - Partly thanks to my screaming, and party because my mom loved my grandmother and wanted to try to honor their agreement. Finally they found her at the dog warden. She was in pretty bad shape, and it was going to cost us a lot of money to get her out (and again, we were very poor.) My parents decided to have her put down there. I really don't blame them, but it took me a very long time to accept it and forgive them.

Even though their first 'family dog' experience was bad, my brother and I were both crushed. It convinced them to try another dog, but they took their time finding a dog that was actually good with our family. The dog was excellent, but pretty boring and not so great for stories :p
 

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Our first dog was a Sheltie named Silky. I was about 4 years old when we got him. I thought he was huge, like a Rough Collie, back then.

My dad got transferred to Germany and we had to give him to my grandmother to keep for us. He disappeared from her yard and even though my grandparents looked everywhere for him, they couldn't find him. Our parents told us that he had been taken to join the circus, a story that always seemed fishy to me.

Our second dog is the one I remember the best. We got her when I was 10 years old. She was a wire-haired fox terrier named Merry Suzanne of Dixieland (Susie). She cost $25 and I got to pick her simply because I refused to leave the breeder's house without her. She was a smart, willful dog who escaped too many times and we children had to capture her, an exercise that took a couple of hours each time. She was plucked when she was groomed, which when I was a kid, I thought was mean.

She took our doll clothes, mittens, and shoes and buried them in the back yard. She let me take tons of pictures of her. She hated baths and she would run away and stick her head under my bed, figuring if she couldn't see us, we couldn't see her. She slept in my bed every night.

She only obeyed when she wanted to, although she liked doing tricks like "snap your teeth like Grandma". She howled along when my mother played the recorder. She loved apples and fudgesicles. We kids took turns walking her. When we would bring her back in, only a few minutes would go by and she would stand in front of my mother and look at her tail. This always made my mother make us take her out again. This trick was especially unwelcome when it was pouring rain.

She was a fun dog to have, pretty much ... but her energy level combined with her brains and her lack of training made me decide not to get another terrier.

When I was a kid, I thought my mother liked the dog better than us. Because of that, I always made it clear to my kids that even though our dog is a member of the family, he is not more important than they are. He is a pet ... they are my children.

Susie died when she was 19 years old, of old age.

Now we have another terrier, because he is the breed I decided would be the best fit for our family, after I thoroughly researched every breed. This one will be trained to the very best of my ability because I do not want Aidan, as besotted as I am with him, to be the King of the family. There are other breeds I prefer, but I had to take my 4 teens, husband, and our circumstances into consideration when selecting a breed.
 

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My first dog was a family dog. We got him was I was just shy of 3 years old. We were very very poor, living in a tiny logging town on Northern Vancouver Island, Canada. He was a lab x spaniel, purchased for $60 dollars. His name was Jake.

Jake was nothing short of an idyllic childhood friend for me (granted I was young enough not to remember all the difficulties). We went everywhere together, got into all sorts of trouble together (in which case I'd hide with him in his doghouse until my parent calmed down). Jake was my shadow from age 3, following me step for step, and always waiting at the door for me when I was gone. He was with me every hour of every day on the farm, whether I was working, playing, or riding horses around the hills. He was a sweet soul with a sensitive heart. Never once in my life did I hear him so much as growl. Jake was indestructible- At age 8 he fell out of the back of my fathers truck, dangled off the side by his collar, slipped out and was uninjured. At age 12 Jake was trampled by one of my horses, but got up and suffered nothing but bruises. Jake was hit by a car at 13, dislocating his hip, but he was never a dog to be slowed down. Even with one leg in a cast he was running along behind me, up and down stairs and around the farm. It never phased him. At age 18 he was diagnosed with renal failure, but even then the only symptoms were a lot of water drinking and peeing. Even then he still chased down small animals, bounced around the house and kept a swift and limber pace with me on our walks. After 19 and a half years together Jake one day decided he would no longer eat. After that day he suffered 5 terrible, sick days. Last December we put him down at exactly 19 years 6 months of age. Best dog I ever had. He lived to be at my side, and I lived to be at his.
 

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Cider was my first dog, and I still have her. I wanted a dog pretty much my entire life. I asked endlessly. Hitting the mall was awful as there was an awful pet store, always went in to see the puppies as I didn't know they came from places other than stores. I almost got my mom to cave over a mini doxie puppy when I was 7 or 8. I read 10 kids no pets at the age of 8-9.. and remember leaving rhyming notes ALL over the house hinting I needed a dog. I was given every excuse under the sun..

I went away to university at 18.. my fourth year my roomie NEEDED a dog. Hit the first pet store in town and purchased the only non JRT cross. Cider was a nightmare to handle as she was high energy and a little off temperamentally, but hell I was smitten, I kinda had a dog. She was purchased in December and my roomie told me in April she was going to the pound as we were graduating and she 'obviously' couldn't have a dog. I was horrified. So she turned it into a gift. A wonderful gift.. here look you get a dog, surprise!

I brought her home, it was hell at first. I knew next to nothing. We have struggled together, and learned together. She's 4 Qs from an agility championship and still a pain in the ass. I love her, but she's been a long hard road for a first dog. First pet of any kind really.
 

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the first dog that was my very own dog was a yorkie-poo, an all black one, that my dad and I named Dixie, after watching "The Dukes of Hazard" one night. I hadnt asked for a dog, and was at dance class one night when I was about 9. My mom came to pick me up early, she hadnt told me she would, and I felt kind of scared seeing her come down the stairs of the dance studio when I hadnt expected her.....I thought maybe something very bad had happened. My mom was wearing a long, heavy winter coat and when I came near her, she pulled the puppys head out and showed me....I cried. I was so excited. My siblings are very much older than I am and any dogs they had as pets had long been gone once I got old enough for one. Dixie slept in a shoebox near my bed every night, and my dad would let her follow him all over the yard while I was at school. He loved that little dog an awful lot. One day, Dixie was outside wtih my dad in the yard, and she ran into the road unexpectedly, having heard the noise of some four wheelers coming down the road. There were several teenagers riding and they ran my little dog over and didnt even slow down or look back.
I came home to find my dad weeping in the living room. I was devastated as well. We buried her in her shoebox with a baby blanket in my parents backyard. I never had another dog. As I got older, I developed asthma and allergies and was always told I couldnt have a dog. A year ago, I found out there were a few that I could tolerate. After 26 dog-less years, Im a pet owner again:)
 

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I got my first dog on Easter when I was two years old. She was a queensland heeler/greyhound mix named Sarah. I don't remember her much as a puppy since she didnt stay small for very long lol but she was a good and loyal friend ^_^ Our favorite thing to do was sit on the back porch and eat oranges ^_^ She passed away at 15 of mammary cancer. I really miss her but I know that she's in a better place and not suffering ^_^
 

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Actually, my first dog was (and still is) my one and only current dog, Kit. Growing up, I always wanted a dog, but my parents don't like them. I waited to get one until after college.

Kit is a shelter mutt, almost 3yo, probably border collie x pointer. I didn't exactly know what I was getting into when I got her (ok, that's a big understatement!), but we've learned a lot together, mostly out of necessity. She lives a charmed life as my best friend, agility partner, and disc catcher extraordinaire. Not exactly your typical first dog story, but nothing about the two of us is really typical.


This pic was published in the local paper around a month ago. Credit to Andy Cripe, the photographer.
 

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My first dog was a yellow Lab named Willow. I was 16 when we got her. . .we grew up Navy and my mom said we couldn't get a dog until my dad retired because it was too hard to have a dog in housing and relocating all the time. The whole time I was little we only had birds and goldfish, because they were easy to rehome when we had to move. We did get 2 kittens when I was 10 (they just died a few months ago, at the age of 21), I guess it was easier to move with cats than with dogs!

So anyway, after my dad retired and we moved back to the States and bought a house, I wanted a puppy. All my life, my dad would point to the Labs in the LL Bean catalog and tell me we would have one someday. . .so I decided on a Lab. I had saved up all my babysitting money and insisted on buying everything myself, because I wanted it to be MY dog. Of course I had no idea about good vs bad breeders (except I knew you had to meet the puppy's mother), and I didn't know about the shelter situation (I thought they only had adult dogs--turns out Lab puppies practically dominated the shelter at the time. Ah well) so I checked the newspaper ads and picked out a likely sounding litter. The guy's Lab had gotten knocked up by the neighbor's Lab, so the pups were technically purebred, but definitely not well-bred. They were 6 weeks old at the time, and there had been 13 puppies, but only 11 to choose from when we got there. I paid $75.

I read every dog training book at the local library, and of course none of them were positive training books. I totally messed up everything. Wrecked our relationship very early on. . .Willow ended up liking my dad best. Which annoyed me greatly because she was MINE!! LOL. I gave up on training completely and she decided I wasn't all that bad, at least. She was a crazy neurotic dog, and had a lot of weird fears (like air compressors). She was a very good retriever, but she was gunshy. She would retrieve her Kong-on-a-rope until she collapsed (literally). She chewed everything, was terribly mouthy, had no bite inhibition, and would make us bleed while playing for nearly a year, never once obeyed anything anyone told her to do (except "find your toy!" LOL), and became very dog-aggressive after about age 2. She just turned on one day and couldn't play with other dogs after that, even her best friend Max. It was very sudden with no obvious cause. She never stopped jumping on people until her arthritis got so bad she couldn't jump. She had terrible hips and would frequently outrun her physical capabilities and would be sore for a while. But that didn't stop her. If she didn't get enough exercise she would pace and whine and run around the house. Her hips got pretty bad arthritis after she was about 8 or so. The vet recommended surgery but we didn't think she would stay still enough to heal so we just used stuff like glucosamine and aspirin (prescription painkillers made her sick). She also developed incontinence after being spayed and had to wear doggy diapers inside. She wouldn't stay outside alone for any amount of time and would bark if we went inside without her for even a second. She was allergic to everything and I had to order her food online because there were no local retailers selling anything decent at the time. She stayed with my parents after I left home, and died just after her 13th birthday.

My family members fondly remember her as The Worst Dog Ever. Of course most of that was clumsy training. But she wasn't really that bad. She tried her best to please. Not her fault we were clueless. She had some good points--she loved babies and kitties and old people (and every human who ever lived, except the vet). She potty-trained very quickly. She would play hide-and-seek all day if you wanted to. She could be walked off-leash and would stay close, but we had to watch for other dogs because she would attack.

I always say I'll never get another Lab. But who knows. . .maybe someday. I hope I'd do better now!
 

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Just wanted to add a comment about first dogs...

Part of me dreads getting my next dog (whenever that happens). I'm convinced the reason Kit and I have such a tight bond is that we learned everything together from square one. I didn't know the first thing about dog training when I got her, but my choices were learn or give her up, so I learned. And being a very willing student, she learned (and continues to learn) alongside me. I hate thinking that I'll never have that with another dog - that it will be more of a one-sided teacher/student relationship.
 

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I was born into a family with dogs. We've just always had a lot of dogs around. I'm only 24 and have already had 13 dogs I've lived with over the years. Had three when I was born actually, a collie type mix(bc/collie/maybe shepherd?), a lab, and a GSD mix. I remember the GSD mix the best. He was such a great dog and really is the dog I credit with starting my love for dogs.

When I was 9 I got 'my' first dog for my birthday after months of begging once our first dogs had passed (they were all the same age), which was a sheltie. Her name was Rosie and she died very suddenly in a freak accident before she was 1 year old. She was a cool dog and I was devastated for several more months.

One day I got the newspaper and found an ad for sheltie puppies. SO many red flags looking back on it (but I was only 10 at the time). They were five weeks old, 2 boys, 2 girls. $250. I begged and begged and begged and begged and my parents caved in saying we were just going to LOOK, not buy. We went to the peoples' house and I walked up and picked up the smallest pup. Never gave the others a look. She was feisty and ornery and the people warned me by telling us that that one was mean. But we played the entire trip and brought her home. Before we'd gotten out the driveway she was dubbed as Nikki by me. It was one of those instant connections. Nikki ended up being my best friend for 13 years. I had her well into college. She was my dog that really was my best bud. I trained her all the time to do silly tricks like jump over things and through hoops. She was really really ornery and kind of bitchy lol. Mia reminds me so much of her. They even both loved the chinchilla.

Before Nikki died (probably about a year) I ended up getting my first dog as an adult, which was Summer. Nikki stayed with my parents through school. She had some health problems and was so old I couldn't justify making her move. It broke my heart but she was happier living out her final year and a half there instead of with me once I'd decided to get a dog. So my junior year of college I wanted a dog that could stay with me. An adult and my apartment had a weight limit of 25 lbs. We'd already discovered papillons and had Beau and Rose living back home. I knew if I had to stay under 25 lbs, I wanted a papillon. Nothing else. So enter Summer, who was offered to me. I'd known her since she was a pup and it's a long story why her breeder was looking for a home but it worked out great. She's 7 now (unbelievable) and just a great, steady little dog.

I had Nikki when I joined DF. I guess it's already been 3 years since she passed away.


DSC_0247 by Summer_Papillon, on Flickr
 

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My very first dog was an adult blue merle sheltie. She was a champion show dog who was ready to retire after having a couple of litters. So we took her on as a pet. She was a wonderful dog! Very well-behaved and very beautiful.

We had to rehome her years later when she developed a bladder problem. She needed to be with a family who was home more. She did fine with the new family, and we recieved letters and pictures up until she died.
 

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When i was born. my family already had a dog, a old rescue toy poodle. CJ was my BFF for 4 years, she was my shadow. I dont remember a terrible amount, i wish i did. But every picture and home movie, there is my shadow right beside me. She was the reason for my love of poodles. Perfect childs dog.

Then came lassie when i was 4, she was a collie. and my bestest friend until i was 16. If I was out in the street playing, lassie was there, off in the woods bug catching/tree house building, frog catching, she was there. watching a movei, she was by my side. I remember her as perfect to me. but looking back, she was a bitch, had massive dog agression issues, would attack any one on wheels (skateboard, bike, scooter ect) hated all animals, aside from the ones living in the home. would and did bite my brothers more times then i can remember. would bite my family for brushing her. But I could do every thing i wanted to her, and not get so much as a dirty look lol. She was truly my dog, obesy me like no tomorrow and flipped of the rest of the world lol.

I made the decision at age 16 to PTS. As she had stomache cancer we didnt know about, until there was very little we could do to save her. vet gave options. And my mom was going to get the surgery done, But I knew, even at 16. i didnt want my old gal to die a slow painful death full of drugs. Up until then she could still go walking with me, be sore, but still make it. she had terrible hips, was losing hearing, teeth rotten beyond belif. so i put her t rest, it was the for the best.

we also had CJ the second a toy poodle and her accident son Sweetie a chihuahua toy poodle cross. growing up.

all four were great dogs. all four had issues, but all four were perfect dogs for me as a child.

and whats a talk about past best friends with out pictures.

Sweetie (the black one) about age 11 CJ the cream coloured about age 13 and lassie at around age 14. Just before she passed.


and CJ the first and I.

 

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Discussion Starter #13 (Edited)
I'm sad to say that I have no pictures of my wonderful best friend who was also evil and neurotic and hated me, Tasha. But I do have a picture of Tasha's very well behaved and wonderful replacement who I didn't like all that much, Max, and the friend we got for her, Polly. Even when I was little, I loved the troubled dogs, still do :p The well mannered ones are just no fun!



My brother is the one throwing.... an orange? or something? I'm the one at the edge of the picture mostly cut off. :p Max had to be PTS when I was 16ish, she was 14ish. We think she was a chow/sheltie mix. There was never a more laid back dog in the history of the world. Never any barking, jumping, anything. Not demanding. Enjoyed sleeping and aimlessly wandering around the yard. She didn't even play with toys.

Polly has a bit of a deformed face in the picture, she's the Brittany, the shelter we got her from was pretty sure she was beat at a young age, and her facial structure was pretty messed up. It became much less obvious as she aged and filled out.

My first ever "MY" dog was Dani. I have pictures of her, but none online. No idea what kind of dog she was, but the shelter guessed australian shepherd/lab mix. It wasn't a bad guess. She was beautiful, and she was mine. Max was my dad's, polly was my moms. Dani was MINE. My parents were NEVER ones to do something random or without planning, but Dani was a complete surprise. We were at the pet store picking up dog food, and there was an adoption even going on. I fell completely in love with Dani at first site, we had a bond that surprised the adoption counselor there, since she said Dani was normally afraid of younger people. I wanna say I was 13 or 14. My dad (who I generally don't get along with at ALL) out of the blue said that I could have her. It remains today probably the most completely unexpected moment of my life.

And we were in love, and we did EVERYTHING together. Very tragically, she was born with a kidney condition we were unaware of, and she ended up dying of kidney failure just a few short months after we got her. It was terrible. It still crushes me thinking about it. She was only nine months old, and she would have been an absolutely amazing dog. I am glad I took pictures of her when I had the chance. I'll try to have my mom scan them for me.

//edit, remembered that I transferred the photos to my photo album from my mom's when I moved, so I got to scan it. Here is my first MY dog, Dani. Her breed is still somewhat of a mystery, and I would not be insulted at all if you wanted to throw out some guesses. I'm sad that I didn't get to see her grow up and fill out and get a better idea. She hadn't even lost all of her puppy fur at the time she died. She was beautiful

 

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I don't really remember the first few dogs we had when I was a kid. There are photos of me in a baby seat with a dog near me, and I'm told she was my mom's dog when I was first born. I don't know what kind of dog she was, but her name was Lady.

We had two other dogs, though I don't remember in what order. One was a store-bought "cockapoo" that grew to about 60 lbs. by the time he was 6 months old. Obviously the breed was falsely advertised, and my parents wound up returning him. We lived in a small house in the city, with a cement yard literally the size of a car and a half, and they felt they just could not keep such a large dog even though he was very sweet (they think he may have been a sheepdog). My main memory of him, Snooky, was that they hooked up my plastic orange sled to him once, and he took off, spilling me and the sled, but I thought it was fun and didn't get hurt.

The next dog we had was a stray that followed me home over at my aunt's house. He was a miniature poodle, or a similar-looking poodle cross. We looked for his owners, then wound up keeping him for a few months, but he eventually ran away from our house too. His name was Pepper.

The dog that I spent most of my childhood with was a mixed breed bought from a pen in a pet shop. She was likely a Lab or Golden mixed with something a little smaller. I remember the day we got her: I was in first grade and heard a strange clicking noise when I walked in the house after school - it was the puppy's nails clicking on the kitchen floor. I still remember saying, with all the amazement of a 6-year-old "you got a dog?!"

She was white, so of course I wanted to name her Snowball, but my mom named her Mitzy. She was an awesome dog to grow up with. I'm not proud to say how I teased her sometimes, but she always took it in stride. I remember we used to love to run and jump around on the furniture in the basement, while she barked at us from the floor. We'd pretend she was a shark trying to get us. She did break my arm when I was 13, by pulling me down the street after another dog and tripping me, but otherwise never harmed anyone. Even when she was older, I remember my friend's little sister taking (eating :p) her food, pulling her ears and more, and she never even growled. Yes, now I know it was very bad to ask a dog to put up with that, but I didn't know better at the time.

The poor girl was overweight for most of her life, but became a healthy weight as she got older. She eventually wound up with anal gland problems (I'll never forget the stench of taking her to the vet, ugh) and severe incontinence. My dad took her to be put to sleep when she was 16, without telling me or my mom he was doing so, and I still hate to this day that I didn't get to say goodbye or to even keep her collar.

Here is Mitzy:
about 2-3 years old

You can see the edge of the tiny cement yard I was talking about.

anywhere from 12-16 years old:

This was after we moved the suburbs.

When Mitzy was about 13-14, we got our Sheltie, Pebbles. I won't write much about her since this is about our first dogs, but I do have a pic on here too. I named her after Pebbles Flintstone, due to her reddish hair. She was the product of a mating between my cousin's pet-shop dog and their neighbor's, and only lived to be 10, unfortunately. But, she was really sweet too, and very smart. She was more my mom's dog than mine.


Now, Buffy is my first dog that's my own. I've already written a ton about her on here, so I'll just post some pics:


 

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We always had a dog growing up, but the one I remember most was named Nippy. My Dad always named our dogs and they were awful names!!! He named them after the first behavior he witnessed or something about them physically...no matter how bad the name was.

My Dad was a horse trainer and brought her home from the race track...one of the many puppies born from the dogs running around the horse barns.

She was a total MUTT! She was all yellow and looked like a mix between a shepard and golden retriever. While I don't think my parents were "bad" dog owners, they weren't exactly hip to paying a bunch of money for veterinary care...plus my Dad thought he was a vet b/c he took care of horses.

So when Nippy became severely allergic to fleas my Dad decided to shave her. BIG mistake...she was the UGLIEST dog ever! She was shaved to the skin with scabs everywhere. But, despite her looks, she was still my best friend. We lived on several acres and she would be by my side anytime I played outside.

My parents were too late spaying her...I will always remember watching TV with my Dad and him jumping up screaming about a "dog is getting Nippy"....I had no clue what this meant. A few weeks later she had puppies and it was the best time of my life. Now I had my best friend and puppies to play with! I cried every time we found a home for a puppy.

Nippy passed away when I was away at college. Even some of my friends remember her because she was so damn ugly :)
 

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Meadow is my first dog and I'm 44. I have always had cats due to a very busy work and travel schedule. Now that I've settled down, I decided that I wanted to train and raise a puppy(!). It's been quite the adventure, but 15 months later I have a wonderful companion who is a certified therapy dog and the love of my life.
 

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The first dog had on my own was a Beagle named CB, short for Cry Baby. We got her from a backyard breeder who let me take her home at 6 weeks of age. We didn't know any better and apparently neither did the breeder.

We got her at a very desperate time in our lives, totally unfair to her. We had just lost our 6 month old daughter to SIDS and someone thought it would be wonderful for us to have a dog to comfort us. BAD IDEA! I had nothing emotional to give this poor little needy puppy and I resented her for just breathing. Grief is a terrible thing. As time passed she was totally spoiled from the guilt of all the mistraining when she was younger. She lived a not bad life until the age of 14.
 

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My parents didn't allow pets except for fish. I was 27, married with two kids when I got my first dog. I had no idea bout puppy mills back then (late 1980's) and we got a sheltie puppy from a pet store. He was very sick :( We did not keep him, to this day, I don't know if I did the right thing or not. Stupidly, I went to what I know is now a byb and got Jasper, a then 7mos old tri colored sheltie. He was really my first dog. He was shy, big, didn't like the kids but oh man, he was my wonderful boy. He was 8yrs old when he died in October 1994. I will miss him forever.
 

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My father raised and trained english pointers. So from the time I was born I was surrounded by various pointers of all ages. My first dog was naturally a pointer. He had taken in a small, young black and white pointer for training. I fell in love with her. She was totally the opposite of all my fathers dogs. She had zero drive, was calm and stoic, not a ball of energy, she was 6 months old - I was 4 years old. We became inseperable at home, when the owners came to get her I pitched a fit of epic proportions and he ended up buying the dog for me. She was with me until I was 17. Always unquestionly loyal and sweet. She never did much hunting unless I went out with her. She had a litter or gorgeous puppies who were all very successful hunters and was a wonderful mother. I owned several other pointers during that time as well - my father would see a puppy he wanted and it would end up as my "birthday" present so my mother wouldn't flip her lid. But Dolly was my first love and I will always be greatful for that little, stoic, patient pointer and all the lessons she taught me.

My father recently saw a pointer puppy he was interested in and asked me if I wanted a puppy for my birthday. I am 44 years old now and told him that my mother is on to him by now! He then asked if my daughter wanted a puppy for her birthday! He was stopping to see this puppy on his vacation this week, maybe he will come home with a puppy for my birthday.
 

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My very 1st dog ever is Samson who can be seen in my signature line...He was 4 months old when I got him & is going to be 7 next month...I'd never even been around dogs before him...What a wild ride it's been!:laugh:
 
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