We bought our own house in December of 1997 and I said that as soon as summer came, I wanted to get a dog. So on June 6 of that year, I went to the animal shelter and found Gwinnie.
He was the sweetest dog. He had been taken to the pound for the fourth time, picked up by Animal Control in Douglas. When we adopted him, we asked who his previous owners were. They wouldn't tell us, but Charles, who used to be a reporter, read the form upside down and saw that the previous owners lived just down the street from us, and that they had named him "Dawg".
We named him Guinefort, after St. Guinefort, Dog and Martyr, since we had named our children after saints, we thought we should name our dog after a saint as well.
He was such a sweet dog - he was grateful to be in a family at last, and to be taken care of, and loved.
He was 14 when he died. He was just worn out.
I grieved for him. Although we have had other dogs, I don't think I will ever love a dog like I loved him.
Good dog, Gwinnie! Good boy!
Linking up with Theme Thursday at Clan Donaldson and A Favorite Thing at Mockingbird Hill Cottage!