That's what the sign read as I drove home from a weekend at my family's cabin. I had recently been told I couldn't have a dog in Park Service housing, but for some reason I drove out of my way to check out these puppies. There were 10 in the litter and Conor was the only white one left. His mom was a shepherd/lab mix and his dad was a husky. Ten minutes later I was driving back to Voyageurs with an (illegal) little white ball of fuzz on my lap.
It's almost nine years later and that ball of fuzz is nine years old today!
Despite being ignored, yelled at, and forgotten about (I put him in the basement when my daycare families arrive and I get busy with the kids and forget to let him back up sometimes.) he continues to be my faithful companion. He came into my life the year I met Brian and played a role in our courtship by being an excuse for Brian to come over to my place. Brian would let him out, take him for walks, and puppy-sit on his days off.
Happy Birthday Contraband! You'll always hold a special place in our hearts.
Awww, cute story. Okay, some unsolicited blog feedback: have you always had grey letters on the black background for your posts? My old eyes find it hard to read. Okay, just a suggestion, but maybe you wouldn't have to go to white, but a lighter shade of grey? Or maybe I just need to relax and look at my screen a little closer...
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