Proud to have been a dog owner for most of my life.
Our childhood dog was Heidi, an Old English sheepdog. Smart dog. Heidi would often cross the railroad tracks, including tracks that carry commuter trains from Lowell to Boston and back, and then cross Gorham Street, one of Lowell's busiest streets, in order to arrive at Riverside Sports, which was our family business.
I was a kid when we got her and a Northeastern University sophomore when she died at age 15.
Next was Bowser, who I 'acquired' after noticing a free dog ad in a New Hampshire newspaper. A great family dog, Bowser could not have been friendlier. The Labrador springer, who looked like a Dalmatian, licked so much I used to worry he would become dehydrated. His great run ended at age 14.
My last dog was Will, a beautiful British Labrador. We purchased Will at a breeder in Lunenburg. It was the best money I ever spent.
While we had Will, my daughter Lyndsay hounded me to get a cat. A cat? Never had a cat. Didn't have any interest in one. But Lyndsay kept pushing. So about 12 years ago, Lyndsay and I brought home six-week-old Oliver. I was a dog guy. Oliver and I basically ignored each other for a month or two. Until one day when I fell asleep on a couch - and woke up with Oliver sleeping on my lap.
An unlikely friendship formed. When Will died with little warning at age 13 on Nov. 5, 1999, I was devastated. I still feel the pain of his passing. Guess who helped me overcome the loss. Yeah, Oliver, the cat I had little affection for. He's become my buddy. He greets me at the garage door when I come home. He sits across the table from me when I do puzzles. He follows me around the house. He jumps into bed with me, especially during the winter.
Just like a dog. Just like man's best friend.
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