Even though Peggy and I are pet lovers (especially cats), we didn't have much luck with dogs. When I went back to college and seminary, owning a dog was out of the question. We moved to
Bradenton in 1987 and really liked our friends' dachshund. In the fall of 1989, we adopted JJ into our family. Still a little puppy, one of his parents was a long-hair and the other a short-hair, so he wasn't pure bred, but still 100% dachshund. At the time we had brown carpet in our house and he blended right in, so we were constantly stepping on him and he was constantly yelping and the phrase heard most often in those days was, "Don't step on the dog!"
As a puppy, he would get so excited when someone came to the house that he would pee. I got into the habit of picking him up and holding him away so I didn't get wet. One memorable day was when Jennifer's friend, Terry, brought her brand new car over to show off. JJ promptly jumped up into her front seat and peed all over it.
JJ was a GREAT lap dog and had the sweetest disposition. Before moving to NC, he had stopped barking at every thing that moved, so we were sure that he had lost his hearing. After the move, he eyes clouded over and his arthritis made him stiff. He face turned white. As his old, 19 year old body began to shut down, we said our goodbyes to him shortly before Christmas. The Vet assured us that dogs indeed, DO go to heaven, and we'll see him again.