I begrudgingly agreed to bring Brock home in Jan 2010 because it was supposed to be temporary. He was this absolute shithead of a dog that drove me nuts. He had no rules, endless amounts of energy, and didn’t listen to a word I yelled. I did, however, feel bad for the little guy being in a crate all day so I found this daycare close to work. It wasn’t all that expensive and figured I could pay someone else to give him attention. About 6 weeks later Brock’s original mom decided she didn’t want him back. I certainly didn’t want to keep his annoying ass either, so what to do?  I hadn’t owned a dog before and thought I had done a pretty good job of not getting attached to him yet. I picked him up from daycare with every intention of dropping him off at a shelter, but it’s like he knew his fate. Homeboy came tearing around the corner and damn near tackled me. He was jumping up and down licking my face and wagging his tail a million miles an hour. I knew right then I was doomed. Brock had been recused at some point as a puppy and I was now his third owner. I just couldn’t do it…

Brock came to live with me at an especially difficult time in my life. I suddenly lost my mom six month earlier and it’s like the universe knew he was what I needed. After that he quickly became my new best friend. He became my reason to get out of bed in the morning and gave my life purpose. He made me smile, laugh, and made it okay to be happy again. He’s been my constant companion the last 7 years and the best thing I never wanted.

We’ve moved from Georgia to Oregon and up to Washington together. He’s marked his territory in 24 different states. He’s a terrible conversationalist, never volunteers to drive, and mistakes the recycling bin for his toys. Dude barks at everything including the wind. He can be the biggest pain in the ass, but he’ll always be My Little Boy.