When I first caught site of Oliver, my West Highland White Terrier, I was smitten. Oliver wasn't just existing in his pet shop cage, he was romping around trying to motivate the other sleeping puppies (who weren't Westies) into play mode. I spent the next five minutes or so watching in enjoyment his relentless but useless attempts to stir the pack. I loved his verve.

My original reason for the visit to the pet shop was to purchase a cockatiel for the reason of companionship. I was living alone in an apartment at that time and thought a whistling bird with some character could be a perfect companion for me--but there weren't any Cockatiels for purchase. That's when my attention--just for some amusement--lingered over to the puppies.

I didn't even know what breed Oliver was until I asked the shopkeeper. This well informed employee relayed all the typical behaviors of the Westie breed and from what I heard--it sounded like we would be a good match. Fiesty, robust, loyal, can be a picky eater, and likes to be on their feet. I remember thinking, "But I'm not here for a puppy".

Before I knew it, I was alone with him in one of those private rooms. I recall asking myself, "Do I want to do this"? The answer came swiftly, and intuitively the name Oliver flooded my consciousness. As this ten week old white puff of fur nibbled on my fingers he became mine in heart and mind. I made the commitment to love, care and live with this little brawny life. I whispered in his ear, "Okay Oliver, I'm gonna take you home and you and I are going to be best friends forever".

The next words out of my mouth to the shopkeeper were "Round up everything I'll need to take Oliver home and make him comfortable". The whole process--which took only about 5 minutes to make--has lasted, so far, six years. Hopefully, another 9 years of sharing life with Oliver will follow, as a life without Oliver isn't comprehensible.

I'm married now, and I have another canine named Buddy, who is a Rottweiler. Yet, to this day Oliver remains my best friend--where ever I go, Oliver goes. Where ever I sit, Oliver sits. When ever I go to bed, Oliver goes to bed. Unless Oliver is outside doing his job of watching over the property, he is inside awaiting my next move.

Oliver lived up to be everything that shop keeper said he would be and more. Oliver hikes, swims, and loves to pretend he is driving the car. I know my decision that day to take Oliver home was impulsive--and impulsive decision making in regards to animals can be a very dangerous mix. But Oliver and I are proof that sometimes you just have to accept on faith the wonderful surprises the universe throws in your path when you set out to search for the right companion.