I'm not sure when it started; probably with the "runt" of the litter my mom brought home when we lived in northern Wisconsin, and let me crawl all over him when I was a baby and child. Penny was bought for a penny and was the dear companion of my Mom & me on those lonely dark nights in the northwoods. Then there was the baby deer my Dad brought home one fall, and Mom nursed him with a baby bottle, formula and oatmeal. What else do you call a deer but Bambi? Penny and Bambi used to play "tag" around the cabin in the snow, and kiss noses to greet each other. I know you find that hard to believe, but I have the photos from the '50's to prove it. I think it was due a lot to the kindheartedness and gentle love from my mother. Although Bambi wore a bright red collar and sleigh bell around his neck, after 3 years or so, he failed to return to the house one year. We all liked to think the collar just fell off. When we moved to Ohio, Penny came with us. Then my Mom fell sick and died of cancer, and the family was split up. I went to live with an aunt in Missouri, my Dad stayed in Ohio (there weren't many single fathers raising kids then), and our dog went to live with my uncle in Illinois. Penny had a good life there, and was loved, but I missed him so much...it's hard on a 8-year-old to lose mother, father, and pet all at once. My human life for the next 7 years was not one I would wish on anyone, although I learned to rely on myself, and keep all the hurts inside, because there was no one to share them with. Then when I was 19, and on my own, newly married(as I thought forever), I had a little beagle-terrier girl, Sushi, crawl into my lap and my heart for 18 wonderful years. The marriage barely lasted 2 years, and Sushi helped me with the pain and disappointment, and she was my best friend. It was always a case of "love me, love my dog", and those young men who came to see me, either understood, or were not seen again. Sushi was such a beautiful little lady; we often joked that she could walk down a tray of champagne glasses and never spill a drop. We would sometimes "sing" together, and she always slept in that little curve behind my knees. When my baby boy came along, she would get up in the middle of the night when he cried, and would stay by my chair when I would nurse him. She helped him eat his very first ice cream cone when he was about a year old in the back of our old station wagon. I am so glad we have a home movie of the two of them together. A few year later, when I brought my second orphan home, Sushi helped to raise him. Sandy became a beautiful 85 lb. german shepherd mix "baby oaf", who always thought he was the same size as his foster mom. When she finally became too arthritic to move, and told me in her way that she was hurting, I knew I had to let her go. That was the saddest trip to the vet I have ever taken. The whole family went with her, so she wouldn't be alone, and we buried her in the back yard, near the place where she liked to chase the squirrels. Sandy was lost for a while, but was soon following me around like a baby duck, and did so until the day he died. His heart was always bigger than his intellect, so others told me, but he was my special baby. He watched over my growing son, and when I developed a brain tumor and needed to be hospitalized for surgery, my girl friend found him just as protective of her, my son, and the house, as if to say, "I'll take care of things til Mom gets back". And so he did. Thereafter, I never went anywhere in the house without his following me, and sitting or lying at my feet. The tumor had affected my balance, and I had to learn to walk again without falling over. Sandy was with me and if I started to trip, his shoulders were there to steady me. Taking him for walks is what helped me literally get back on my feet. My little 6 year old son also grew up a lot that year, and in gratitude for all his help we got him his very first pet, a beautiful and bright blue parakeet which he named Skyler B. Bird. Such a personality! He and my son had a really special bond, and were inseparable. Skyler was so funny, and affectionate, and mellow, he was soon part of the family, too. Our next move took us to Colorado, where within a period of 8 months, our precious Skylar came down with a respiratory tumor and had to be put to sleep. Then a day or two after Thanksgiving, Sandy woke up from a nap walked a few steps, and fell over panting. My son & I drove him to the vet and after Xrays, learned he had some sort of abdominal bleeding, and that we could just put him down, or do surgery. There was no question as to if he was "worth it", the surgery was done the next morning, and my son & I stayed with him in Recovery. Sandy had some tumors in the Spleen, but when that was removed, and all the tests came back clean, we were looking forward to having him home for Christmas. Until he left the vet's care, one of us stayed with him, sleeping on the floor next to his kennel, and taking him for his short "excercises" with his bandaids and his IV. He came home, anemic, but in good spirits, a few days before Christmas. We were all so happy and greatful. He continued to slowly improve over the next couple months, but one evening, after an especially good day; he looked very tired, and didn't eat much of the liver and rice I had made for him. Something told me, this night we should all say our "good nights" to him, and anything else. My husband and son hugged him, and talked softly to him, and went up to bed. I fixed his blankets next to the sofa, where I had been sleeping since he came home from the hospital, as he couldn't climb the stairs up to the bedroom yet. I spent a while talking to him, telling him what a good dog he was, and that I hoped he would come and greet me, when my time came. His look and warm tongue told me he understood. About 3:30 in the morning I awoke and found Sandy had left us, peacefully, sleeping next to me, as he had all his life. I try not to miss him, but he was one of the gentlest souls, and dearest friends I have ever known. Our house was quiet for about 3 months, and then we could stand the silence no longer. We went to a local shelter and found a little Lady dog, who we later learned was very close to termination. She was a Beagle-Shepherd mix, and we like to think she is part of our little Sushi come back to us. She has a laughing face, loving eyes, and a joyous spirit and a heart full of love. My husband adores her, and vice versa. She wags her tail extra hard when he comes home. Blackie is a spaniel mix, and had been abandoned when his people moved. He was skinny, full of worms, matted coat, and very sad. Only years later did we learn, by an Xray, that he had 2 pieces of buckshot in him, encysted from some evil time before he came to us. That has never stopped him from being one of the most loving, gentle dogs I have ever seen. Lady and Blackie came to live with us at the same time, so they are the best of friends, playmates, and a couple years ago, they got a new "sibling", a little girl kitten that my now grown son found on a busy roadside and brought home "just for the night". Two years later, Lily is now a beautiful white cat with china blue eyes, and two dogs that she loves and plays with. Blackie especially grooms and licks her face, and they will often curl up and sleep together. I have undergone yet another bout with a recurrent brain tumor, and my son, too, has had his share of illness, although now we are both cancer-free, and look forward to lots more years with of life, and our second set of "kids". I wouldn't get through the lonely days and nights of the "empty nest" times, nor the sometimes down times we all get in life, were it not for my little fur-person friends. They remind me of the most important things in life; that is giving and sharing love, and enjoying today's gifts. I have had some of my friends say they wish that when they die, they could come back as one of my pets, and we all have a good laugh. I am complimented. I try to live up to being the type of person my dogs and cat think I am. I hope I can give back a portion of the joy they have brought to me. My idea of heaven is to be with all my beloved animals again, and never be parted.