This is Dax taking a nap. We're not sure when he was born. I adopted Dax in early 1999, maybe January or so, and I got him for Christian. This was right after my first husband died and I felt like having a dog would be a good thing for him. Even though I grew up with dogs, I didn't really know how to take care of them other than feed them. Dax was a good dog right from the start. He really didn't do much damage (except for Barbie's hand which he happily chewed off). Even though he wasn't big, his bark was scary, and he kept people away, which was good for us. He could jump higher than any dog I'd ever seen. I later found out he's a catahoula, a Southern dog bred to hunt coons. When we moved to Texas, he came to life. He loved it here. Makes sense.
When I met Dain and we started dating, he started taking proper care of Dax. He would take him on walks and play with him. Dax was kid #4. It never ocurred to me to walk Dax. lol Really.
The earliest records on Dax are from 1994, so we've always used that year as his birth year, but in reality, we don't know. Our vet thought he was much older based on his teeth. So we know he was 17 years old, at least.
We'll miss him. He was a nice, quiet dog (unless someone came to the door). He was loving, didn't bother anyone and aged gracefully. He's now with our other dog, Sassy, who died a couple of years ago from cancer. We're leaving Texas and leaving parts of our hearts here with our doggy friends.
