April 18, 2009. I remember the day like it was yesterday. My whole life, we had always had big, smart, protective dogs, but ever since I was a little girl, I had wanted a puppy that would stay small forever. I wanted a dog that I could play with and hold in my lap. On that wonderful day in April, my dream came true.

My parents used to tease me all the time saying, “Maybe there is a dog in the boat house for you,” or “Go check the garage, Christine.” I never found anything though. I would spend hours on the internet looking for the perfect puppy. I remember in seventh grade when I wrote a persuasive essay on why I need a puppy and brought it home to my parents. I read them my paper, and they still hadn’t given in. I used to make lists of the names I had picked out for my future dog. I didn’t let my hopes get too high, but I never let go of them.

I was getting confirmed in church on April 19, 2009, and I had dropped a hint that maybe now would be a good time to get me a dog. I didn’t get my hopes up though; they hadn’t been listening to my plea for years, and why start?

The night before my confirmation was a beautiful spring night. We had gotten the boat in the lake earlier that day and taken the first test drive. It was sunny but had a cool breeze. I was sitting around doing homework, and I had to interview my mom for an assignment. I asked if now was a good time, and she said sure but she had forgotten her glass of wine in the boat house and asked me to go get it. I, of course, resisted but eventually gave in. When I walked down to the boat house, I slowly opened the door to notice a dog crate sitting on the floor in front of me with a little green sign that said, “Live Animals.” I was puzzled, and I didn’t have a clue what this thing was doing at my feet. I bent over and stared inside. In this crate was the smallest, cutest dog I had ever seen. Here, in this kennel, was a three-month old maltese shih-tzu. He had a tiny, scrunched up face with multiple colors. His white mustache was accentuated on his silky brown fur. The fur on this dog was so soft that it felt like real hair. Each piece of hair faded from white to brown to a black tip. Almost not proportionate was a large white tail that flipped upwards and rested on his back. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The next thing I know, my dad jumps out of nowhere, and I see the flash of a camera. Thinking this was too good to be true, I whipped around to see my mom standing on the deck with the video camera. I freaked out. All those years of begging had finally paid off. I bent down and opened the kennel, urging my new friend out. He was frightened, but once he came out, he clung on to me tight. When I set him in the grass and began to walk, he followed me so closely that I was tripping over him. I fell in love. My family and I spent the rest of the night outside playing with my new puppy. After hours of trying to think up a name for this dog and multiple suggestions and phone calls from friends and relatives, we came up with Louie.

I’ve had Louie for a little over a year now, and he has brought an enormous amount of joy to our house. He is literally a bundle of fun. Louie has so much energy and will always be the most excited thing to see me. I wouldn’t trade the day I got Louie for anything in the world.