Pet Stories

Yesterday night Luna died. She was twelve and a half years young, and the sweetest and most loving dog that one could hope for.

I still remember when we bought her, on July of 1994. We saw her first in a cardboard box that she was sharing with her brothers in the town of Concrete, WA during a camping trip. One man, who owned a breeding kennel, was selling dogs in the street (all Staffordshire Terriers) and we thought that it would be a good idea to buy a dog to keep us company since my wife couldn’t get pregnant (of course, as this things usually happen, she got pregnant two months after we bought the dog).

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Pecival spent most of November at the Humane Society shelter, hoping that someone would take him home. Instead he watched all the silly little kittens come and go, while his maturity and wisdom seemed to go unnoticed. I’d like to think he was patiently waiting for us, though in truth, he was probably getting a bit worried.

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