Ten years ago we brought our sweet Friday home. A farmer had a litter of Golden Retrievers he wanted to go to good homes, so Mike and I and my parents all decided to head to his barn and bring home a couple of puppies. Mike and Bre and I decided that whichever one we got would be for Sabrina's birthday (it would be a surprise for her). Major waddled up to Mom and Dad, and Friday wriggled his way to Bre.

Sabrina was overjoyed, of course. And since that day, she and Friday were as close as a dog and his girl could be.

He grew into such a sweet gentleman…

And what a handsome boy he was…

He was such a good sport whenever the girls or I would get in a silly mood…

…And he refused to outgrow his lap-dog mentality. Once, on a walk with Friday, I stopped to talk to a neighbor who was sitting on the warm cement of his driveway, enjoying the weather. Friday promptly took the opportunity to sit all of his 111 pounds onto the poor man's lap, and I could barely see my neighbor behind Friday's tall body. When I finally got Friday to stand back up, I was relieved to find my neighbor was quite good-humored about it, even though he almost got his beer knocked over.

In the past few months, Friday had become more tired, and had a difficult time getting up. He also lost his hearing, so when he'd go outside, I'd have to jump up and down like a crazy person to get his attention so he'd come back inside.

Whenever Bre would come home, she'd shower him with lots of love and say, "Hiii, Fridayyy!" in such a cheerful voice, it always made me smile. And of course he'd roll on his side for her and relish all the belly rubs.

He loved listening to Bean play her guitar…

Since Sabrina couldn't come home from school, Sophie had become a very good care-taker for Friday. He had started growing weaker, and didn't want to stand up to eat his food, so she would do her best to help him out…

Yesterday we made the heartbreaking decision to have Friday go to sleep after watching him decline so rapidly this past week. Sophie had taken such good care of him in Sabrina's absence that Sabrina wanted her to be there, and asked us all to say goodbye to him, and to tell him she loved him. Of course we did, and I scratched Friday in the same way Sabrina always did when she was here.

Mike and I carried our boy into the vet's office, and after spending some time with him in the quiet room, the vet came in to tell Sophie she was doing the right thing, and that she was loving him the best way possible by letting him go. He was suffering so much, and needed to rest.

Sabrina, it was very peaceful. He was ready to sleep, and he knew he was loved.

We love you, sweet Friday.
August 2, 2002 – September 21, 2012

I used to think I was more of a dog person, but lately I'm starting to think I'm a cat lover. Tilly has been visiting since Bre has been on Christmas break, and I tell you, every time I see this little sweety, I feel happy.

When I say, "Hi Tills!" she actually meows in answer. It's the weirdest thing.

And she loves to antagonize the Yorkie. It's one of her favorite things to do, as a matter of fact. Here she is, perched on the Yorkie's old spot on top of the couch (snuggled in one of Sophie's t-shirts)…

And since the Yorkie finds Tilly to be extremely disconcerting, all the Yorkie can do is sit by on a not-so-comfy chair and take it.

And as soon as Tilly is occupied elsewhere, the Yorkie eagerly resumes her position on the back of the couch.

Lately, the only time Tilly will allow the Yorkie to have her old spot back is when she hears me switching laundry loads. For some reason, this silly cat loves the dryer. She watches me unload it, and as soon as it's clear, she settles in.

She igores my pleas to vacate the dryer so I can get on with the laundry, so I usually end up piling damp clothing in around her to show her I'm serious about the eviction.

She also loves it when I play on my iPad. Recently I couldn't figure out why my screen wouldn't scroll, and when I looked down, her paw was resting on it, preventing it from responding to me because it was busy responding to her.

The poor guinea pig in Soph's room also finds Tilly to be extremely disconcerting.

As I was taking down the Christmas decorations this past week, she made herself at home in a garland laying on the floor, hiding herself  from a certain pooch. Clearly she had plans brewing for making the Yorkie wee in fear.

The oblivious Yorkie approached…

…And this was all I was able to capture of the skirmish:

Tasha, on the other hand, is not afraid of anything. She dreams of the day when Tilly will let her stand this close to her without a screen door between them.

Poor, friendless Tasha.

Tilly doesn't care for canine exuberance, so she stays as high up as possible when Tasha's tanking through the room.

She does, however, like Friday.

And like I said, I really like her.

Sweet Tilly. Bre sure knows how to pick them.