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Laddy will forever be my best dog.  A Shetland Sheepdog, he was my bestie growing up. I vividly remember being 13-years-old, curled up in his fur into the wee hours of the morning of the day my parents knew it was time to take him into to be euthanized. I cried for three days straight.

After Laddy, there were a series of dogs that flowed in and out of my unaffected adolescence. Butch, the beautiful Samoyed who left to live at the farm after hell nor high water could keep him tethered in the yard. Lady, the skittish rescued Gold Retriever who only liked my mom. And finally Rickie, the Pomeranian who was priced as such but as he aged it became quite apparent one of his parents had a thing for a pug.

After college, I moved in with T-Doll and she bought a puppy: Bailey. The Bernese Mountain Dog better known, very sarcastically, as my BFF. Bailey is a shedding, shitting mess of neuroses.  He has something called ‘Fly Biting Syndrome’ where he sees things that aren’t really there. In my family, we call that Schizophrenia.

And Bailey looooooooves me. He goes ape-shit when I walk in. He’s seven now and during the handful of times a year I visit T-Mick (new name: she got married), I’ve grown to tolerate him.

Then I lived with Bobo and KM…and Piper. Piper is a Vizsla. Piper is my best buddy. I love Piper.  She now has a brother who was rescued from the streets: Murphy. Don’t tell Piper, but I might like Murph more.

All of that back story to talk about Boog.  Boog is a Great Pyrenees. He is to date, my favorite puppy (alive, of course. RIP, Laddy.)

We dogsit for Boog probably once or twice a year. He’s a great pup and sleeps most of the day away (he’s a giant. If I were proportionately 7’5″, I’d probably sleep a lot too.) Despite the shedding and drooling, he’s just a good boy. That is until he spend last summer at the cabin and turned feral.

He quite literally ate the curtains. He also hates straps. As in the ‘I-still-can’t-believe-I-spent-that-much-money-on-a-bag’ shoulder strap he severed. Boog’s owners are kindly replacing the curtains and even having their leather guy (apparently you need a ‘ leather guy’ if you have Boog) create a new strap if Kenneth Cole cannot send a replacement.

Needless to say, the puppy-fever TB and I had has been cured. Even though we miss Boog now that he’s gone home, we’re pretty happy with our clean, dogless home.