Twenty four years ago today, my parents found my first dog, Lola, on the side of the road in the North Georgia mountains. That was a good day. For her, for me. Probably for my parents who found her as well. It was a good day.
I loved that dog. I mean, she was just heaven sent, really. I had told them that day that if Katie had puppies on her farm, I wanted one. Well, they found Lola on the side of the road, about a half mile from Katie's farm.
Lola was way more chill than Piper. She was also more prone to illness. She had gastroenteritis a few times, she once ate a whole bottle of anti-anxiety meds (hers, not mine) and had to be forced to throw them up. She had a cyst on her paw, and another on her lip, and she had allergies. So many allergies.
But she was my best buddy for thirteen years. She died a year and change before Dad did - and I honestly think she was preparing me. I will tell folks that losing her was in many ways harder than losing Dad.
According to the DNA test we took, she was full blown mutt. A little English Setter, some Jack Russell, some Boston Terrier and a lot of "we have no idea".
She loved running up and down the creek in the mountains and later on in life, we took her on a canoe trip:
She was beloved and a total joy. I forget about her sometimes, and I try to remember what she felt like when I would pet her. I really, really miss her though. Piper is completely different, and they were/are the exact perfect dog for her time. I couldn't have handled a Piper in Lola times, and I would rather have Piper than Lola right now. Well, I love them both in completely different and equal ways.
That's the truth.
Back in the day, I would make Lola a big bone shaped rice krispy treat, or once, a squirrel made out of cocoa krispies.
I called February 13th Foundling Day.
Today, I'll just write a little about her, and our time together.
She was a good girl, and I enjoyed having her in my life. And that started a half of my lifetime ago.