We got Scruffy in February 1986. (Well, we didn't bring him home 'til April ... but we picked him out at 2 days old.)
My dog that I'd had since childhood, Shaggy, had died the summer before at 14. I had moved to college and my mom was alone in the house, 'cept for my cat. She finally decided she wanted a dog -- and she wanted a Yorkie. (Shaggy had been about 35 pounds, he was a gorgeous dog. Looked like a big version of Benji. Carting him up and down stairs and in and out to the bathroom during his last several months had been a chore.)
Scruff was dainty and particular and smart. He and I always had a love/hate relationship but he made it up to me toward the end. He became like my best friend during his last three months or so. I often wondered why he couldn't have been that way with me the rest of his life! (Sadly, he died at 11.5 of hemangiosarcoma.) He got so bad, he had to be PTS, something I'd never had to do. I never wanted another dog after that.
I lasted a whole week.
My mom talked me into going to "look" at puppies. It was love at first sight. Ozzie came home to us in September 1997.
