Have you ever had a dog? I have had several and each and every one of them have been great but there was one dog in particular that was, man’s best friend. Libby was her name. You see I believe that a dog is definitely a man’s best friend. This dog would have died for me, and on more than one occasion tried to. Eventually, in a way, she did. My parents tell me the story of when I was three years old, sitting in a stroller in my driveway when our neighbor’s dog escaped from its chain link kennel and s had started coming towards me. That dog weighed about one hundred twenty pounds and my black lab, Libby, weighed less then ninety. Libby sensed the other dog’s ill intentions and jumped in between me and him barked her heart communicating that to get to me he would have to crawl over Libby’s dead body. After barking back a couple times he turned and walked away.
Libby has been to France and back, through several houses, two campers and several tents. In the end she did die for me, she was put to sleep because of arthritis in her hips and disoriented organs. You see if she had sat by the fire her whole life and watched us work she would still be alive and would probably have a couple years left. Instead she spent her life diving for tennis balls, Frisbees, and jumping with her mad hops to knock the squirrels of the top of our ten-foot privacy fence. When we planted tomatoes she would get along side us and dig the holes in the wrong places, spraying dirt back into our shoes and faces. When she saw us pulling weeds she dug up the tomatoes.
Libby was a better football player than any of my fifth grade friends. She had our playbook memorized like the back of her paw. When I said hike she would run out ten feet turn around, jump to catch the already popped ball in her mouth and ran to the end zone. When I got the ball she took me down. When we played soccer Libby dribbled the ball in between her two front paws and without using her strong jaws once scored on me time and time again.
In the last year of her life I got into basketball and of course so did Libby. One day she went up for a rebound and came down. She didn’t get back up. She had gotten the rebound though, and to her it was worth it. Her hips had given out and the next day she was put to sleep in my dad’s arms. She knew she was dying and she knew that she had one more sport to own me in before she went. She succeeded.
I believe that not all dogs are a “Mans best friend dog.” I do believe, however that Libby was most definitely, Mans best friend.
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