When I was a little girl, my sister decided to start raising litters of Boston Terrier puppies.

When the first batch came along, I got to pick out a puppy for my very own. She was a little blackand-white blob with a wide white stripe down her forehead and a black circle on top. I thought it looked like a jewel in a crown, so that’s what I named her: Jewel.

She was with me from the time I was about 8 until just after I turned 18. We were the best of friends and went on many adventures together, running wild in the fields and alleyways behind my childhood home. She slept on a floral cushion in the living room floor during the day and at the foot of my bed at night. She could open the screen door by herself to go outside, and she loved to visit my mom in the kitchen to see what tasty treats she would get. She would turn circles for a cookie any time, which was as close as we ever got to teaching her how to roll over.

After my mom passed away, Jewel lay in the hallway floor facing her bedroom, mourning for weeks. For a rather lonely little girl, she was a wonderful companion.

After I grew up and had a house of my own, the opportunity to adopt an Airedale Terrier presented itself to me. I’ll never forget going up to the mountains to the ranch where the puppies were located. I’d never seen an Airedale before, so I was very excited to meet him. When we arrived and were pointed to the enclosure where the puppies and their mother were kept, I picked up the first little guy who wandered over to me, and he promptly bit my hand as hard as he could.

I set him right down and proceeded to pick up his brother, who was considerably gentler and sleepier. “Aw, this one’s all tuckered out,” I said. And that’s how my Tucker got his name. He was the silliest guy I have ever known. He liked to go for rides to get ice cream, he chased (and occasionally ate) rocks if someone tossed one for him, and he got horribly embarrassed every time he had to get a haircut.

He was terribly jealous about me — wanted all of my attention and affection for himself. He’d sit on the couch like a person, all 115 pounds of him, backed up on his curly tush and hanging his front legs down as if he were going to pick up the telephone and call someone. You couldn’t leave a whiskey sour out around him; he’d down it like he’d been waiting on someone to mix him a drink all afternoon.

When I had my first baby, Tucker looked at me with such a mixture of surprise and confusion that I had to laugh. That dog had no idea where I’d gotten that baby, nor any idea that he himself was not a human child until that exact moment. I had to explain very gently that the baby was mine, that no one could ever take Tuck’s place, and that human children didn’t usually indulge in mixed drinks or have curly fur.

He seemed offended, but I made it up to him by letting him drive the golf cart a little bit. He wasn’t a bad driver, considering he was, well, a dog.

Over the years, there were more dogs. There was Maxwell the mutt, Bella the beagle and Cheerio the Chihuahua. Finally, there was Charlie, my very best friend in all the world.

A miniature dachshund who stayed absolutely glued to my side, Charlie was the best cuddler. He loved going places, he loved children, and he loved naps burrowed under a soft blanket. He loved pup cups, he loved watching “The Chosen,” and he was always a perfect gentleman on walks.

They were all very good dogs, dogs whom I was blessed to know. Some were strays, some were adoptees, and most stayed for many a long year, keeping us company and making us laugh. There’s nothing better than a dog’s personality to make you laugh. Unless, of course, it’s a cat, but that’s another story for another day.

Mankind’s best friend is definitely a very special gift, as are all animals. Except for maybe mosquitoes, though I know they have their place in the ecosystem. I am sure that if you’ve ever made friends with a dog, or that if you’ve been blessed to watch your kids grow up with a dog (or two, or three… no judgement here; the dog distribution system knows who needs one and who needs many, that’s all), you know exactly what I mean.

Give them all a pat for me. The doggos and the kiddos, too. Big and small, young and old, they’re all very special. Keep on raising them… the doggos as well as the kiddos. You’re going a great job.

“When you’re the best of friends. Having so much fun together. You’re not even aware you’re such a funny pair. You’re the best of friends.”

— Pearl Bailey Walt Disney’s “The Fox and the Hound”

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Franki Ingram is a hometown Artesia girl who likes unicorns, classic rock and coffee. She has four kids ranging in age from 22-9 and dabbles in meal planning and budgeting.)