Other Voices

When I was 5 years old, in June of 1967, we got a new addition to our family. Not a new brother or sister, but our first dog.

To an only child, it was like having a new sibling. The puppy was part Chihuahua and part rat terrier. It was so little that he easily fit into the palms of my dad’s hands. With his light tan coat, large ears, and big, soft brown eyes, he looked like a fawn as I held him close and christened him “Tiny.”

Tiny and I became practically inseparable. I developed a separation anxiety and was afraid he would run away. It was a comfort to cuddle with a furry friend ev...