One that stands out most in my mind is of my black poodle, Fella. He was my very first dog that belonged to only me and he was as smart as a whip. I was around 11 when I found him on the street, matted and abused, but he quickly got used to his new home with us.
The most special memory I have of him is when I was around 15 or 16 years old. My father and I would walk down to the elementary school down the street from us to go jogging. It was about a 10 minute walk to the park and we always took Fella with us. He loved it and looked forward to it daily.
One day I went out looking for him for our walk to the school, and he was nowhere to be found (he usually just stayed put on our front porch). So my dad and I went jogging alone that day. When we came back, there was Fella on the front porch, laying down and crying...I mean really crying, with tears running down his muzzle and whimpering like crazy. I immediately knew it was because he knew he missed out on running with us that day. Poor baby!
From that day forward, he made sure not to miss any more days of jogging with us and was at his post every day at the time we left. That memory will be etched in my brain forever.
