There's only so much attention a dog can take

Other than a fish when I was young, I had never been a pet person until I met Jeremy. On our second date, I told him I wanted kids, and he told me that I would need to learn to like dogs in order to be accepted by his family.

He "broke me in" by having us dogsit our friends' dogs - mostly pugs.

So, when we finally moved into a house in the fall of 2005, we decided to get our own dog. Murphy, a Boston Terrier, was born on Halloween, and we brought her home right before Christmas.

She was our baby - the star of our holiday cards and our first foray into parenting.

I didn't plan that one of my new experiences in my 50th year would be mourning the loss of a pet. But, today, that is what I am doing.

Dame Murphy of Windom was her official name. She certainly was royalty in our family, adored by the kids and us. Those who met her will always remember her tongue that was always out, the way she burrowed under blankets to go to sleep, and how she greeted guests by biting their shoes.

She defied death so many times (cancer at least twice, blindness, going deaf, doggie dementia, loss of appetite, GI issues), we thought she was a cat squared with 81 lives. Today, they ran out.

Until the very end, she enjoyed licking and eating everything, basking in the sun, and snoring on the couch. We all miss her dearly but are grateful for her companionship and affection for nearly a decade and a half.