My Puppy

His name was going to be Jack or Pete or my favorite, Boots. Who knows how we landed on Max, my sister's idea possibly; it was indeed her dog. At the time he was "The cute puppy from the pet shop." He was brought into our home to help my sister deal with her torturous seventh grade school year. From the start he was more then just a new addition to our family. Max grew as I grew. He was at the bus stop for my first day of first grade. He was there lovably kissing all the kids at my graduation party. He saw it all. From start to finish, good days and bad, never failing to generate a smile on any face that walked into our house. There are very few moments I can remember Max not wagging his tail, very few entrances I can remember his not greeting me excitedly, and very few mornings I can remember him not waiting by the steps anxiously for us to wake up. He was, despite all of his accidents in the laundry room and table begging, the perfect dog. And more then I could have ever wished for.