The Doggy Bloggy

The life of a 12-year-old puppy, in love with squeakies and Ol' Roys

A Day About: Faith

Posted by faiththemutt on July 26, 2011

I’m hoping to start this thing, just to keep myself thinking about what’s been going on with my animals and I.  For the next week I’m going to try to post about one of my pets a day.  Give them their spotlight as I see I’ve neglected posting about some of my babies, without really meaning to.  I’m also hoping it will get me motivated to take new photos to add to my collection.  I don’t want to miss moments if I can avoid it.  Since I started late in the week, this will probably continue until next Wednesday or until everyone has had their day.  It’ll be a good thing I think, since I’ll be spending time with my animals and honing in on my photography skills, such as they are.

So, I’ll start with the star of this blog, since she hasn’t been featured lately.  Faith.


Faith has been my dog and best friend since middle school.  I never met her as a puppy and for the first year or so of her life, neither one of us knew who the other was.  It wasn’t until one fateful night, when my mom and I were out picking up dinner, that a yellow blur brought our van to a screeching halt.  My mom thought she had hit her and stepped out to make sure she was fine.  Less than a minute later, a stinking, muddy, emaciated form was sitting beside me in our van, staring and wagging happily at me.  Though, I didn’t see that as I tried to claw my way out of the car, not knowing if this Gollumesque thing, was friend or foe.  Mom ordered the dog-thing to sit and butt hit car floor almost instantaneously.  When I realized I wasn’t going to be shredded to bits, I took another look and saw the eyes of desperate, but happy dog.  As if she had been waiting for the right family to drive by and stop–

It was her Leap of Faith.


In the years that have followed, Faith has been a loyal and adoring friend.  She has never asked for anything more than our love and has given much more than she will ever know.  Even the days she was naughty (Chicken bones are hard to resist) or I a lackluster parent, she still remained the faithful dog she’s always been and I’m grateful for that.  She followed me through the rest of my horrible middle school years (pimples and growth spurts galore) and supported me through high school and hours of violin practice.  For two years we lived in a different city, in an apartment where our best times were spent snuggling on my parents’ old couch, watching movies and sharing dinner (well, her kibble bowl was next to my burger) and she never once faltered; even when I was home late from work or I had to focus on studying for a statistics test I was never going to pass even if I wished really, really hard.  She kept me sane, even when it was boring for her.


To this day, I look at her and I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.  I know to her last breath, she will be my friend and confidant (I can tell her things I couldn’t tell anyone and I know she wouldn’t judge me) and that makes me wish with all my heart that she will never have a last breath.  When I look at her, I see such a soulfulness that I’m hard-pressed to find in any other human.  Her dark eyes are grateful and humble and beautiful and that is something so rare to find.  She knows she had a hard life before us and that even through the hard times, she’s in a good place.  We all love her and for me, she leaped her way into my heart in a way I will never recover from.


And I adore her.


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