We got Domino when I was a junior in high school. That was 1989. She always slept at the foot of my bed. Even when I was away at school and my parents kept my bedroom door closed, she slept in front of that door. After college, Domino started sleeping at the foot of my parents’ bed--unless I was there. Then she slept at the foot of my bed. My mom fed her, but Domino was MY dog.

Domino was our protector. Nobody got near the house without her alerting us. She was especially protective of Sarah, my niece. You can tell by the pictures that the day we brought Sarah home from the hospital, Domino knew that she had work ahead of her. If Sarah was in her crib in the dining room at my parents’ house and start to fuss while we were in the living room, she would stand in the doorway and bark, letting us know that Sarah was in distress.

My mom tells me that she has pictures of Sarah sleeping on a blanket on the floor with Domino curled up on the corner of her blanket, protecting her charge.

One of my fondest memories of Domino was when I taught Sarah how to become her best friend. As Sarah was reaching three or so, she was a bit afraid of Domino because she was big. Every time Sarah would try to eat something, Domino would want a bite. Sarah would try to pull it away from her, and Domino would jump up. I taught Sarah how to say "NO!" to Domino and then later how to feed her Cheerios. Sarah then became the master of feeding Domino and they were best friends until the day Domino crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

And then there was the time Domino and I were playing in the living room. We were getting pretty rough. My mom yelled at both of us to settle down. Domino, always the one to get the last word, walked around behind me and peed on my head. Yeah, she won that battle. My dad still laughs to the point of tears with that one.

Domino left us on January 31, 2004. She may be gone, but never forgotten.

Oh, to give reference to the pictures, Sarah is now seven.