This story has been told before, but I think it’s time for a retelling. 
Ever since I was little, I have dreamed of having a puppy all of my own. I gobbled up stories of dogs, everything from “Biscuit the Dog” to “Where the Red Fern Grows”. I spent hours pouring over a book of dog breeds, examining the breeds looks, personalities, etc., trying to decide which one I really wanted. The main reason I decided on this breed was that I wanted a little buddy who would follow me around everywhere and be a snuggle-bunny who wanted to crawl into my lap. The Italian Greyhound fit the ticket just perfectly.
In 2004, a week before Christmas, my parents woke me and my siblings up hours before dawn and told us to get ready to go. They refused to tell us where we were going and it wasn’t until hours later when we were nearly there that we figured it out. We were going to Dallas.
We stopped off at a Chinese buffet to eat lunch and when we got back in the car our parents paused, looked at each other, then looked back at us with strange smiles.
“We have some early Christmas presents for you,” said Mom.
Dad went round to the back and pulled out 4 little boxes. After handing out each one, he directed us to open them one at a time in order from youngest to oldest. Being the oldest, that of course put me last. I don’t even remember what my siblings got, just what I got (to be fair, they don’t remember either 
). It was a $20 bill and underneath a little card with a familiar logo on it. The card said- “May you always remember Christ’s love and care for you as you love and care for your new, best, little furry friend.” The logo was of the “Italian Greyhound Rescue”.
I looked up, “Does this mean I get a puppy?”
My parents nodded with huge smiles.
And I shrieked, “YEEEES!!!”
As we drove to where we would pick up my new, best, little furry friend, my parents told me about the little they knew of his personality. He was a rescue whose original family had purchased him from a person selling IG puppies on the side of the road. Not long afterwards they decided they could not take care of him like he needed and did the right thing by turning him over to rescue. His current name was Pedro. He was cute, with a bright red head and two spots on his back, one about halfway down his spine and the other making a bulls-eye on his little tush. The biggest thing that had happened to him so far in his 7 months of life was to leap out of a tall cage at the vet while being neutered and land ker-splat on the concrete floor. He snapped his right front leg and was treated by an orthopedic vet (which I didn’t know existed until I heard the story). He had only had his cast removed about a week before that same day we were coming to pick him up.
After hearing his story, before I’d even met him, I knew I would call him “Pippin”, after the character in “The Lord of the Rings”. He was intelligent, but had the same lack of wisdom that was tempered with enthusiasm. It was a perfect fit for all that was currently known about Pedro’s character.
When Pippin’s foster Person came out of her house with him on the end of a leash, he was a little ball of fire! Ecstatic about being let out of the cage he had been confined to in order for his leg to heal, he dashed about willy-nilly as fast as his slender legs could go in a complete circle around his foster Person. But by the time we left, he was snuggled in my lap and gazing at me with what I can only describe as adoration.
Pippin’s love is beyond a doubt the best Christmas gift I have ever received.
Thanks to Trupanion Pet Insurance for putting on this contest! 
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