Fisky was supposed to be the families' dog, but somehow ended up being mine. She was a sweet dog, she was 17 when we had to have her put down due to medical difficulties. She loved pizza with onion, and peanuts in the shell (which she would crack open and eat the peanut inside leave shell behind).
When we were young she enjoyed following us around outside, one winter it snowed to a depth of about 11 inches; deeper than she was tall. She made do by jumping from footprint to footprint we left in the snow.
Fisky came to live with Vicki and me, about the time we were married. Age had begun to catch up to her at that point. Nearly deaf, eyesight failing, she came to our household. This was the umpteenth move for her, but she did not mind. She was with people who loved her and that was what was important. Samantha our cat of the time was uncertain what to make of this new addition to the family. Fisky on the other hand couldn't care less about the cat. She had seen other pets come and other pets go through out her life and she always was the one who stayed.