Friday, July 23, 2010

He waits

Twelve years ago this month I brought home a little white ball of fuzz I named, Contraband, because of the fact that technically I wasn't suppose to have a dog. Conor is my dog in every sense of the word. He doesn't eat if I'm not home. When PapaBear and I both call to him he 100% of the time comes to me.

If PapaBear lets him outside while I am gone he won't bark to come in. He'll wait for me...even if it's the dead of winter. It's the same in the summer too. He finds a spot of shade and watches for me. Did you spot him there under the pine tree?

He's waiting for me.

My first baby, my shedding machine, my puppy-wupster, my faithful companion.


  1. Awww, what a great and loyal friend he is!

  2. That's fantastic! I know the feeling - "our" dog is my shadow and my constant companion. She will sleep in the bed only when I'm in it, and when I'm away, she sleeps under the crib, rather than share the bed with my husband - ha!


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