Sept 28th is my puppy, Taco's birthday. He is 11.
He's starting to turn into a little old man. He has cataracts. He can hardly hear(we have to yell). And his breath, well...let's not go there.
For me, he is perfect. The perfect dog. The perfect friend. The perfect fur kid. He is a huge blessing in my life.
I adopted Taco from my Aunt Angie when he was 6 years old. Only months after Taco moved in, my life had some drastic changes. Changes that effected my soul, my spirit and my world as I knew it. Taco was there for it all.
We were a team. Through all the rough times, I could count on him. He would be there when I got home. When I woke up. And whenever I needed love. He was there when there was no one else. He helped me through a lot of transition.
And then came Tom. I had to have Taco's approval...if not, I don't know what I would have done. Taco's a good judge of character you know.
He actually pooped in one my Match.com date's car...twice. I took that as sign.
Tom and Taco are T and T. Similar in personality, both calm and soulful, they sit together on the recliner. Sometimes both snoozing. Sometimes one of them is studying and the other is peeking over the book. But I can tell you this, where there is Tom there is Taco and where there is Taco there is Tom. Don't let Tom kid you. He calls Taco if he isn't right there next to him.
It's amazing that this little furry hero flew here to me from California. And he saved the day. He might not have a cape or the letter S on his chest, but he is truly my super hero.
I love you Taco boy!