Before Franklin and Lola, there was Emma

I always wanted a dog. This is me when I was little and the closest I could get to a dog was a box of diapers on a string:

I grew up. I still wanted a dog. But I was afraid of what having one really meant. I didn't know if I could handle the responsibility. So I remained dogless. Then in 2003, my brother asked if I could take his dog Emma. He wasn't able to keep her and knew that I already loved her. So Emma became my first dog.

Emma was already around 4 or 5 years old. She was a funny looking girl. All spare parts and ears. Mostly ears. And a whole lot of love.

She was a fantastic hostess when her friend Magic would come over.  She would sit like this on couches and in the car, resting her arm on the armrest.

She was a great friend to us, and showed me how much better my life is with a dog at the end of the leash, rather than a box.

We lost Emma 4 years ago today.

and I still miss her.  I still get teary when I see sheppermans (that's what breed I decided she was, based on her doberman and shepherd features) around the city. I still think of her and smile every time Lola wears one of her hand me down couture coats. I still cry on January 11.