Early December of 2008 I met my best friend Skippy. My husband and I were helping our Amish friends move to their family farm. I walked over to the kennels to see the dogs. They bread several breeds for sale. In an outdoor cage was a lone Boston Terrier. His mate had died a few months earlier and he was basically taking up space. He was a disagreeable fellow, barking and growling when people approached his cage. I saw something in him that melted my heart. The owner agreed to give him to me for our helping them…I was willing to pay, but he said no. I held him on my lap on the way home. He smelled so bad and his gas was the worst I ever smelled.

The moment we brought him in the house he became an indoor dog. He loved it! I gave him a bath and he loved it. He tried out every piece of furniture in the house and liked them all. He is my constant companion, shadowing me everywhere I go. I must be within eye-shot at all times. I think he thinks he’s a person. He loves when we sit with company at the kitchen table. He sits on my lap with his front paws on the table, head turning toward each person who is talking. Sometimes he even joins in the conversation trying to make words. He cocks his head when we ask him what he thinks. I won’t have many years with him; he will be seven soon, but he has brought me such joy and laughter. As he lies snoring on my lap and gas as bad as ever, I thank God he brought Skippy into my life.