This is me and my dog Annie.

I first met Annie when she was a very sick little puppy. Someone had dumped her unceremoniously on the side of the road, and she had somehow staggered her way onto the nearest porch. Her temporary haven belonged to my neighbor – a large, loud man with a big heart but no great love for dogs.  His adopted daughter, age 7, had called me over as I walked by their house. I was just cooling down after a Saturday morning run. 

"Have you lost a puppy?"  she asked.

That was a logical question. After all, five dogs lived at my house. 

I answered no, I wasn't missing a puppy. But I just had to walk onto the porch to take a look at this one. There lay a dingy yellowish/white puppy with intense black eyes that looked at me as if to say "I am sick, but I am not afraid." When I asked the little girl's father (aforementioned loud man with big heart) whether he wanted to keep the porch puppy, he answered: "I was thinking of putting her in a stew." 

I said, "Well I'll take her with me then," and scooped her up. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I walked around the neighborhood carrying her to see if we could find her owner. No one claimed her, and I was glad. Of course, I only knocked on two doors. But I did put an ad in the paper. Again, no one claimed her. 

Thus begins a wonderful story spanning the 13 ½ years of one special dog's life. In our  time together, Annie and I saw each other through hard times and celebrated good times. We shared life in all its pain and glory. This is a story I need to tell because Annie was so special -- and my best friend.

To be continued....