First Love

I'm the blond sitting on the ground, and I don't have a clue what I'm wrapped up in or why. And the other girl with the long brown hair was my best summer friend in those days -- ah the adventures we had!

No, she was not my first love.

But Inky was. Inky is the marvelous dog pictured here. I don't remember what breed Inky was. He was black as midnight, black as, well, ink. Always with us, but not in an obtrusive way. If we fell when water skiing, Inky would swim out to "save" us. If we jumped off the raft, he jumped with us. He hiked wherever we hiked. When we started kissing boys, there was Inky, our chaperon, sitting beside us watching intently....and if the boys started grabbing and we made a noise he didn't like, Inky was known to gnaw an ankle or two. We took advantage of that once or twice, I remember.

Our cottage was a few cottages away from Inky's family and he would walk me home some nights, stopping at the edge of the woods that marked the boundary of my family's property. I was usually walking alone, and I greatly appreciated his company. I'd talk to him, tell him my problems and wish that Inky was MY dog. I wanted someday to have a dog just like Inky.

It took me nearly 40 years, but I finally found Rupert. Still, when I discovered this photo on my friend's Facebook page, all my feelings for my first dog love came flooding back to me and I wanted to bury my face in Inky's fur again. I've missed that dog so much after seeing this picture. And I'm thankful to have known Inky, for he led me to Rupert.