By Laura Parvey-Connors

It was early spring when we adopted our first baby, a 6-month-old black lab puppy. My husband and I had been looking for the perfect four-legged companion to bring into our new home. A dog was a way to expand our family without committing to parenting a child. We figured it would calm any biological clock needs for a few years. We found our furry, first child online at the Hamilton Humane Society, met her for about 30 minutes and rushed her home to Missoula.

She was a timid, energetic puppy, who needed a lot of work and training. My rock-hound husband suggested renaming her Onyx and I agreed hoping that I wouldn’t have to name any of our children after rocks. She was our first glimpse into parenthood — waking up at night to let her out, walking her multiple times a day to tamper that puppy energy, fixing holes in dry wall, taking her to the doctor when she got injured, and spoiling her with toys and treats.

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