I was blessed. When I went searching for a dog for my then-six-year-old daughter and myself, a friend referred me to a local rescue organization that specialized in golden retrievers. I knew a golden would be a good fit for us — I’d helped my grandmother rescue a golden when I was a kid and been around enough of them to know that temperament-wise, one would be a good fit for us.
I checked the rescue organization’s website and happened upon a likely candidate — he looked a bit scruffy and, per the description, had been surrendered by a breeder due to being “too small and too ugly to breed.” I’m not sure I buy that he was really ever characterized as such — true, he was on the smaller side for a golden (65-70 pounds), but “ugly” and Pringle never resided in the same zip code.
Suffice it to say, he was perfect for my daughter and me. For over 11 years, Pringle played the role of Best Dog Ever. I’ve shared his story here previously. Though he’s been gone close to three years, he’s always with me. I’ve had multiple pets in my life and loved them all, but Pringle? He was extra special.
One of the things — the nice things — about social media is that it allows us to keep up with our friends and acquaintances. Setting aside the political squawking, it’s a lovely way to keep up with the accomplishments and milestones. Sadly, it also keeps us apprised of the losses. And I’ve been on Facebook, in particular, long enough now that an entire generation of pets have graced the pages of my friends and traversed the Rainbow Bridge.