My wife and I, as a matter of course, only adopt rescue dogs. Our 17 year old Rott mix passed away recently, and our other rescue Cooper (a Lab/Cocker mix) went hyper-neurotic. We didn't realize just how strong a bond he had formed with his packmate. We quickly started looking for a new dog, and my wife found a shelter dog named Julie and showed me the picture. While trying to appear nonchalant, I knew that she was the dog I had to have. Her face was just so beautiful, and I hoped she would become part of our family. By the grace of god, she hadn't been adopted yet! North through the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel we went, with Cooper in tow (to make sure they got along) to meet Julie. They hit it off amazingly well, and we had to wait until her heartworm treatment was complete. Poor girl has been through a lot in her 3 years (even more so than Cooper who was in a kill shelter), rescued from a gassing facility, heartworm positive and pregnant when she was diagnosed with heartworms. That led to an abortion/spay. Then we found her. And are now treating her for kennel cough. As I type this she's laying at my feet, contently playing with her squeaky toy. Since we've had her, we have done what we can to make her a happy dog - and make sure that she gets to experience what she never has. This is a picture of a trip to the beach, I think it was her first. She didn't know what to do - but Cooper (who we've taken to the beach enough) did his best to show her. I don't know what I'll do when it comes time to say goodbye. ..