Max the Dog turned 10 a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying to put into words– and pictures– how much this silly little dog has meant to me for the past decade, and it’s been difficult to articulate how much a little dog could impact a girl’s life.
When we got Max, I was 14. We went to a pet store (I know, I know) to JUST LOOK at possible hypo-allergenic breeds that our family could handle.
We ended up falling in love.
For the past decade, Max has been a vital part of our lives, in particularly mine. He was the first living, breathing creature I came out to. He’s been my secret keeper, my confidante, and a girl’s best friend since the moment he licked my hand in the pet store.
Now, old age is starting to catch up with him. He went completely blind last weekend, and, despite a few days of doggie depression, he has been doing remarkably well. His personality has been ridiculously calm and docile, but he’s slowly getting back to his diva self.
Regardless of all this, he’s still my old man and my baby boy, all wrapped into one.