So who was the first great canine love of YOUR life?

A stray “mutt” that sauntered into my yard one cold October morning, all emaciated and weak, but still very friendly and loving. He was a border collie mix, and I loved him! My parents initially objected to me keeping him, so I made a make-shift house in the backyard for him, from cardboard taken from my parent’s little grocery store. I kept him warm with wool blankets, and fed him as best I could, finally nursing him back to full health. When the snow hit, I convinced my parents to let me keep him, and he lived with me for 10 happy years. He was such a great dog. He was the best. I still miss him a lot.

His name was Lucky… We got him on my first birthday, and he pulled my skirt off. :’)
He dies a few years later from being shot by my psychotic neighbors. :/
After him we had Shiba… We had her from when I was four, until my parents separated, and my father left her in the care of some of his friends. I found out she died three weeks ago… :’(

The first dog that I could call my own was Bernese moutain dog and border collie mix and I adored him. He could talk (it was always “I ruv u”), was incredibly strong, could be walked without his leash no problem, and was also the biggest idiot of a dog I knew… Didn’t even have him for a year. His former owners failed to tell us he was epilleptic, he bashed his head open when no one was around during a seizure.

Rest in peace Buddy.

I had my Gypsy. She was a collie mix and a great playmate for a little girl. She tried to get on the bus with me the first time I had to take it. She never barked, always cuddled, what alove she was. Sadly she died after only a few years of a disease that paralyzed her hind legs. My parents had her put to sleep, of course.

Grandma’s dawg Lucky, when I was a kid & I took her for walkies, I was payed 20p for every wee & 50p for every poo she did. I’m a good liar, I made a small fortune outta that hound….bless!

Bessie named for Bessie Truman. Because we had Harry a stray cat picked up on a trip to DC. He was running scared behind the White House. You could get close to it those days. Anyhow Bessie was a black and white spaniel type mutt. She was exceedingly smart. She could climb ladders. My dad and I were forever up on some roof making repairs and she would always climb up behind but she couldn’t get down. Dad would have to carry her down. She would climb up the ladder to the sliding board at the playground and then run down, I could never get her to sit and slide. My dad’s store was at the end of the lot and our house at the other end. At lunch my mom would put dad’s sandwich into a bag and Bessie would take the bag into her mouth and carry it down to my dad. Her tail would be up and she would be so proud. We had a letter slot in the front door of our house. She would lie in wait and attack the mail when it came through the slot. One day she got the mailman’s finger as he was pushing it through. He went around to my dad and told him his wife sure was anxious to get the mail! I would hitch her up to my wagon and she would pull me then we would switch places and I would pull her, she loved riding in that wagon. The stories are endless. She lived to be about 15 and I had moved out of the house when she died. My mom and dad called me on the phone to tell me and they were both crying and so was I. Actually I could bawl right this minute talking about it. She was a wonderful dog!

My first dalmatian (made me want to become a fireman in my youth).. Fantastic pet, he loved and protected me like a big brother (I had a neighborhood paper route with him as muscle back-up to any strays crossing my path).. And I agree.. Because of their inert innocence and oh so cute expressions, dogs are better than most people.. Later I had a cat that I could just not look away from him without giving him a big hug (he was so sweet and trusting).

I can’t pick one of the four dogs I have had in my life. I love(d) them all because they are/were individuals. There was Rebel the dog my dad finally let us have when I was just about to leave home. I got home from a date to find a cardboard box in the middle of the lounge room and then a little furry head popped up. It was love at first sight. I have the dubious honour of being the person who taught him sofas are more comfortable than dog beds. My parents were not pleased. He hated getting his paws wet and didn’t like you washing his furry bedding. He outlived my dad and never spent one day sleeping outside as my dad had always insisted was the place for a dog. He had my dad wrapped right around his paw.

Then there was Cara, my own first dog. A cocker spaniel. She was so loyal and trustworthy. She would sit next to my baby daughter’s bouncy chair and watch her protectively. She stole the builder’s sandwiches while our house was being built and a neighbours slippers. When we dug up the garden at the front we found a strange assortment of shoes and underwear… including Union Jack knickers. She died in her sleep.

I now have two standard schnauzers that are mad as meat axes but full of personality. I don’t even want to think of them passing on.

My beautiful black Lab called Bonny…...totally loyal, loving and really miss her.

About 16 years ago we came home at our place in the country and two dogs came running up to us barking their heads off. They were friendly, but very thin. I thought they were Irish Setters, because they were so thin, but they were Golden Retrievers. I fed them some leftover steak and they left for a bit.They kept showing up over the next few days and we fed them, so finally I took them to the vet for shots and an exam. We built them a small enclosed shelter with a low fence until we could figure out what to do with them. They busted out one day and disappeared for a few days. We got a call from the dog warden (We had notified him they were missing) and they were up to their original home. Turned out the original owner had bought them to breed and make money, but when he couldn’t make money at it he dumped them on our road. We went and got them and brought them home and had a permenant 60’ X 40’ fenced in area and a nice home built and they lived with us for the next twelve years. Their medical issues would fill an encyclopedia, but they were great dogs. Finally, the male died from a stroke, and the female gave up and was near death within a month, so we put her to sleep. I have their picture in front of me on my desk.

The first great dog love of my life was a dachshund that lived across the street from me. I visited her regularly.

Then there was Rusty, a large, mixed breed dog that ruled and roamed our neighborhood. I loved to play with him.

Finally, I got my first dog, Rocky, a weimaraner. I loved him so much.

My first dog, a little mutt, most likely a mix of some sort of terrier and maybe Basenji.
She was a little black dog with one up ear and one down, a curly tail she carried off center and the face of a fox.

She was only about 20 inches tall and the smartest little dog ever. She would run next to my bicycle without a leash and never left my side.

I would take her to the nursing home my grandmother lived in once a week and she delighted all the residents.

They would all come into the great room and there was never enough time for ” Nikki” to spend with them all.

She was a special little dog for sure!

@Bellatrix

Haha, your sandwich & slipper stealing Cara reminds me of an old neighbors Springer Spanial ” Tut.”

We all lived rural and Tut would often go off his property on scavenger hunts. He brought home the most amazing stuff and they were forever trying to find the owners of his thefts.

One day they came home to a cordless drill, one tennis shoe and a bra on their deck. I was laughing so hard, and joked about just keeping an eye out for a woman with one shoe and no bra in the neighborhood. lolol

When I was a nipper we had had great dog called ‘Roy’ he was Manchester terrier, very loyal, very loving but also very independent… as well as following us to school & being there waiting for us to return he followed us everywhere, still he used to get into all sorts of scrapes nonetheless.. Dog ownership laws were quite lax back then & Roy was allowed to roam wherever his little heart desired… you would most often be able to find him pursuing his favourite pass time of hunting rats over the beck that served as a field boundary on the farm near to where we used to live, he’d spend hours there chasing down & killing the things, harmless enough…. But there was that time he got in to someone’s allotment & killed all their chickens, so they said. I think a fox myself….. Sadly he was viciously mauled by a bigger dog & as a result my mother had to have him put to sleep because she couldn’t afford the Vet bill…. I was about seven years old & I cried for a week for my little mate…. :-(
I often reflect on those days, Great days…..... I still miss that little fella, thirty seven years on.

I love me some Boston terriers. They are all wild.

Purebred German Shepherd named “Radar”! What a massive dog. I used to ride his back all the time when I was young!

It was a little cockapoo black & white we named Tips. We had him less than a year before kids from The Hills Have Eyes family in our neighborhood came into our backyard and hung my dog from his chain on our fence. I came home from school and found him. I never wanted a dog again but did get another a few years back. It smarts sometimes when I think how much I love my animal.