Seven years ago I decided to get a dog. I never thought I would own a dog but after spending tons of time with an ex's dog (to the point that he would live for me for months at a time while his owner traveled for work) the house was feeling a little lonely. I would go to the shelter three or four times a week looking for a dog that fit my criteria (over 4 years old, female, not high strung). I would read the bios and walk a dog or two and then stop at the first cage as you enter the dog runs. There was "Harold". He would be there jumping straight up into the air -- his vertical leap was incredible. He had so much energy that I felt sorry for him so I would take him for a walk. He didn't have leash skills but seemed rather friendly. He was about a year and a half and seemed to enjoy getting out for a walk. He had been found as a stray and was severely underweight. He was not yet available for adoption as the shelter holds them for 10 days to be claimed by their owner. He definitely didn't fit my criteria. After a couple weeks of this looking, I decided that it would be a lot easier if this dog lived at my house. I didn't choose this dog, he chose me.
He came home November 18, 1999. He wasn't much into dog food and he would drop a treat and leave it on the ground. How was I going to train this dog who wasn't motivated by food. It was all I could do to get the 11 pounds on him that the vet considered his proper weight. But his desire to please was strong and he was soon laking well on the leash, sitting at the curb and coming when I called. He was well loved by all of the children in the neighborhood and a walk could often become hours of walking and visiting and playing with the children in the neighborhood.
He had issues. He had been beaten by a man who drank Budweiser (or else my dog was a beer snob). He had epilepsy. He had an attention span too short to play fetch. But he was a great dog and I miss him terribly. I can't walk through the neighborhood without someone asking where he is and I have to relive that night all over again.
I miss you Tigger.