Thirteen years ago when I was only one, I had a dog named Max. He was a Rottweiler with dark brown fur, and golden patches on his paws and around his nose. Max was always very curious. Anywhere in the house that had food Max was always there. Even though I only knew him for a year when he died from old age, it felt as though something was missing. Ever since he died I had wanted a dog. After four years of asking when we would get a new dog my parents finally agreed to get one. We all agreed to get a yellow lab puppy. The part we didn’t agree on was wether we got a boy or a girl. My dad really wanted a boy because he said they were good watch dogs and there would be two males in the house. But my Mom, sister, and I all wanted a girl, so my Dad gave in and let us get a girl.

He called the breeder to let him know we wanted to purchase a dog. The breeder arranged for us to come out to Union Town six weeks after my Dad called because the puppies needed to grow a little more before he could sell them. After waiting six long weeks, the day finally came were we got to pick up our new dog. We all hopped in the car and drove an hour out to Union Town.

Bright green grass blanketed the hills surrounding the large wooden barn with chipped red paint covering it. To my right were tall vibrantly colored sunflowers. The gravel crunched underneath my feet as I proceeded up the steep skinny road. We approached a small brown wooden barn. Surrounding the bottom of it were plastic doggy doors. Small yellow puppies only six weeks old were running in and out of the barn. A white fence was around the border of the puppy area. The squeaky gate opened and we snuck through so none of the puppies would escape.

There were two girls, one with light yellow fur and another with darker fur. Then there was one boy left and he had dark golden fur. My sister and I wanted the girl with the lighter fur because we said she was the prettiest one. She was very hyper running in between and all around my Dad’s feet trying to untie his shoe laces. From the moment we saw her we knew she was the one. We agreed to get her, my Dad signed all the papers and we were on our way home.

As we were driving home in the car, we were trying to come up with a name for her. I wanted Rosie and my sister wanted Honey because of her Honey color. My parents liked the name Honey better, so that’s what we named her. The name Honey was perfect for her. At first I wasn’t happy that we didn’t name her Rosie, but I got over that shortly.

Honey is now eight, but she hasn’t lost any of the energy she had when she was a puppy. She's always running around the house looking for trouble. Wether its chewing up one of our shoes or jumping up on the counter to steal some food, she always finds a way to get our attention. I am so glad that we picked Honey out of the other two dogs because she fits into our family like a puzzle piece, she was just meant to be.