I had always grown up with dogs, but when I was first able to get a pet (which I did as soon as I moved out of the dorms) I thought that a dog would be too much work since I traveled every other weekend, I decided to get a kitty. I got Moses before I even moved into my first apartment and then Maximus 4 months later. I only lived in that apartment for 7 months before I decided that I really hated Jacksonville and moved over to Gainesville to start my prereqs for nursing school. I moved in on a Wednesday and that Saturday I went to PetSmart to pick up some things, of course I went on the same day adoptions were held...not a good idea.
Well walking down the isles looking at the dogs I saw a beautiful Saint Bernard laying looking pitiful in a crate. I asked if I could take her out and visit with her. She was sweet and big and just so beautiful. When I got into the interview process, I found out that she was abused, a bit dog aggressive, loved cats--especially kittens, picky about men, 5 years old and a couch potato. I decided that she would be a perfect dog for me, only catch was that my parents specifically told me not to get any more animals. I talked to the woman, Gail, who ran the rescue, she told me that whenever I went home she would be happy to babysit her or if I needed anything not to hesitate to call. I handed over my $100 check, and happily went home with my beautiful Super Sadie.
I decided that the smart thing to do was just not tell my parents about her...yes, that was smart (not!). Well about 6 weeks after I got her, my little sister (16) at the time decided to run away from home, she left Fort Lauderdale and headed to the panhandle to visit her boyfriend. As soon as my parents realized this at 0600 they hoped in their car and headed after her. The only real problem with this plan was that they decided stopping for a night in Gainesville would be a good plan...CRAP! They got up there for lunch time, we were all sitting at McCalisters and I just blurted out, "I got a dog." My parents' eyes both got big and my Mom asked "what kind?" "A Saint Bernard," I replied. My Dad apparently found that amusing, "Seriously, the biggest dog possible?" They got over it and everyone loves her.
But that was Super's introduction. Super is now 8 and a half years old, as beautiful and sweet as ever.