My 9-year-old self couldn't help but fall head over heels for the tiny black ball of fur in Grandpa's arms the very second he walked through the door. I'd spend hours sitting with her, cuddling her, and playing with her. When my grandpa passed away in 2012, his will made it clear--Blacky was mine. But she always had been. As is the Labrador nature, she is kind, gentle, and oh so loving. I've never had a better friend in my lifetime and I don't think I ever will.