We met Bob Slobbers at an adoption fair held in a pet store a few miles from our house. The dogs were set up in a semi-circle, almost like a therapy group, in front of their individual crates. Billy and I split up strolling around, reading their brief bios in front of them. I found a scruffy one that seemed cute, looked around to find Billy to show him, and saw him sitting Indian style on the floor in front of a hefty black lab mix.
They were locked in a stare down.
I walked over. Billy looked up at me. He said, “Bubba,” the name on the lab’s bio. I knew right then and there Bubba was going home with us, and after being vetted by the adoption agency, that black lab became the center of our lives a week later.
Billy named him Bob Slobbers within a few hours of his arrival. And they were inseparable. Bob knew Billy as “Daddy” and me as “Dad,” and damned if Bob really did know the difference.
I remember when I shot this tiny piece; I wanted to grab that bond those two had. That’s why you hear me cooing in the background.
What the three of us didn’t know was that Billy only had two and a half days left.