Fisher (aka Booloo, Sasu, Balu, Laboo, Fishy or FISH STOP!) is my ten year old golden retriever/cattle dog mix. I turned the corner at my local Humane Society and a chubby little eight pound six-week old Fishy chose me by looking adorable in the back of a huge pen filled with her brothers and sisters. She quietly walked to the front of the pen, sat down and looked up at me. “I’ll take that one,” I said instantly and asked if she wanted to go home. She licked my face and rested her head on my shoulder when I picked her up.
She lets out a huge sigh at the end of each day when I’m tucked in bed and turn out the light. She’s always ready for a walk but when I tell her “it’s too early, go lay down” she’ll climb back onto the couch and go back to sleep. Everyone loves her (with the exception of my old college roommates but, rounding up to everyone). She gets tired at parties; stares at employees in any establishment where she thinks she may get a cookie; hates skateboards, thunder and fireworks; is happiest chasing her tennis ball at the beach and still walks toward me with her head down and wagging her tail when I ask if she wants kisses.
And that photo up there? That’s exactly what happens when she’s no longer willing to lay down and is insistent on getting outside. She’s the only reason I know any of my neighbors. My life…better doesn’t even begin to describe my life from having her in it.