When I was five years old, and Angie was two, we were riding in the car with Mom in the way home from our grandfather's house, as he took care of us when we got off school every day. It was mid-May, around Mothers' Day, so it was warm enough to be outside, and people were walking their dogs. We turned down our street, and we see a dog being walked by its owner. I don't remember a thing about the dog or the people, just that both Angie and I turned to Mom and asked her (again) if we could get a doggie.
"No," Mom said, "I will be the one who ends up taking care of it."
Of course, being kids who REALLY wanted a dog and not understanding the amount of work that goes into caring for one, we insisted that no, *we* would do everything. But again, Mom said no, so Angie and I pouted for the remaining one minute of our ride home.
We got home, and when I walked into the house, lo and behold, there was a tiny puppy hiding behind my father's legs! She was completely brown with a black nose and ears - a mix of Australian herding breeds and some terrier. Mom named her Kahlua because of her brown coloring, and she was our faithful, loving, obedient, and protective companion for fifteen years. I will never forget the way she stood firmly next to me when my first boyfriend came over to visit (I should have dumped him then), or the way she knew where the boundaries of her lawn were without being told, even when we moved. She once bowled Angie right over when she attempted to dash between her legs, and she would sit tall on the back porch and wait on the squirrels that would yell at her from the electrical wires and tree branches. We still miss her very dearly, even with three dogs in the house. As all pet owners know, your heart has room for many, but when one is lost, that hole cannot be filled.
Mom had no idea that Dad had picked up Kahlua that day. Turns out, she had told him earlier that year that, for Mothers' Day, she either wanted another baby or a puppy. Kahlua was Dad's answer to that question :-)