My family got Tippy for my second birthday.

Sure, there were other pets in the family while I was growing up. When we got Tippy, we already had one dog — Brownie, Tippy’s uncle. I had Pebbles, the puppy, and a kitten at my grandma’s, with whom I stayed often while my mom worked. There was Butch, the mean, old miniature sheltie that never let me near enough to pet him. And then there was Cadbury the bunny. Yes, we had a few pets.

But Tippy was always there and became such a staple in my life that I almost forgot the black and white Australian shepherd and border collie mix wasn’t immortal.

Tippy was my best friend. To some people, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. But to people who love their pets the way I believe pets should be loved, it makes perfect sense.

She was always there when I needed someone. She was never too busy or in a bad mood. Tippy would play fetch when I wanted to, but if I didn’t want to … well, that was OK, too. She was just as content lying at my feet (or, when Mom wasn’t around, on the couch or my lap) watching TV or helping me with my homework.

Tippy was a champion hunter and would stalk a squirrel in a tree for days until she caught it. Then, she would prance around with it in her mouth for the world to see, proud of her kill.

She was friendly to strangers. Perhaps too friendly at times, as we often joked that if somebody were to ever break into the house, she’d lick the intruder to death. But we never had to worry about her with children or other animals. She loved everybody.

Tippy helped me through some of the most difficult and emotional times in my life. When I knew nobody else in the world would understand, she was there, sitting, patiently and quietly, with me until I could stand on my own two feet again. She never let me down.

She was there through elementary school, through my awkward junior high years and less awkward, but still awkward, high school years. I could see the confusion in her eyes as I packed up and left home for college and the excitement when I’d come home to visit.

Tippy put up with a lot from the family over the years. I’m the youngest of three children, so Tippy was the closest thing I ever had to a little sister and sometimes, I treated her as such. I’d tease her and pick on her, but she always seemed to know I was playing because she’d pick on me right back.

I don’t know how many summers Mom thought it was a good idea to shave her, almost completely bald, to save her from the heat. I’m sure it felt good but Tippy looked ridiculous. She’d sit at our feet as we laughed at her, expecting a treat for the torture we put her through.

When she was about 10 or 11 years old, I taught Tippy how to shake. She’d known how to sit and lie down on command for years, but “shake” had yet to stick in her vocabulary. Who says you can’t teach old dogs new tricks?

As I got older, I took Tippy for granted more and more. My love never faltered but I didn’t appreciate her as I should have. As with all of us, human or canine, her health began to deteriorate.

When I was 20 years old, we had to say goodbye to Tippy. Though she was a family dog, my mom and I had particularly strong feelings for her. She was 18 years old when we had to let her go and sometimes I’m still in awe that a dog could have lived through so much.

No dog can ever measure up to Tippy. She was more than just a pet to my family, she was part of the family. She helped mold me into the person I am today. There are still, and I’m sure will be for a very long time, pictures of her on the wall at my mom’s house and at mine.

She was the best dog a girl could ever have.

Kaci Boyd is the Columbia Basin Herald paginator. She is quick to smile and give an affectionate “Ahhh. They’re so cute,” at any picture of a pet, dog or cat. She owns both.