The Joey picture Andrew carried in Kosovo
We met him on a September day soon after we were married. His name was Martis and he was one of many who needed a loving home. We were told he was part Chow Chow and were shown his brother who was a puff-ball of fur.
We lived in a two bedroom apartment on the second floor of a complex at the time. Having a dog in the apartment meant a pet fee and multiple walks a day. That, mixed with all that fur, meant work.
Besides getting hitched and picking out the washer and dryer, he was our first real decision together. He was a good one.
We named him Joey – Andrew’s middle name and the name of a special doll I had when I was a little girl.
We spoiled him with toys, treats, a huge crate, his own food table and love. He spoiled us with destroyed toys, lots of trips to the nearby woods because of all the treats, a messy crate and house with clumps of fur everywhere and the sweetest unconditional love we could ever imagine. He kept me safe and sound through Andrew’s military deployments and kept things interesting with all of his eating adventures. (He must have hated that hardback book about the First Ladies. Tore through it like it was threatening him.)
Loved to Play
People would remark what a pretty pup he was – some even asked if he was a dog model. They wondered what breed he was and as he grew up he started to look more like a shepherd/collie mix to us so that’s what he became. He certainly exhibited the herding traits of those dogs. Always under our feet and near the person he felt needed it most (babies, little kids, pregnant friends, our moms). He always had to sit right by us and when we got up for even just a glass of water, he followed.
He traveled through states with us – feeling both snow and sand. He moved three times with us and got to spend seven years of his life in the big fenced yard he deserved. He knew the comfort of our bed and couches and left his fur mark and warmth all over them. He loved to be Andrew’s pillow and my foot therapy. All of that fur he had was so fluffy and soft and he would let me rub my feet over him as he rested near me.
Bean and Joe-Boy
He impressed people with the tricks Andrew taught him. Barking when Andrew would just open his mouth, low crawling when Andrew pointed to the ground and sitting just by Andrew moving his pointer finger up and down. Joey cared for our guests and family – escorting them around the house as well and often “baptizing” them with his dripping mouth after a drink of water. He earned nicknames like: “Joe-Boy,” “fuzz buckets,” “fuzzy butt,” “Joe-do Baggins,” and when he was in trouble “Joseph Martis.”
Joey and Andrew in downtown Savannah
He was as old as our marriage – 14 years. He was Andrew’s first dog and the first dog who was truly mine. Our first dog to have to decide it was time to say goodbye and give him peace.
There are a lot of ways to help determine you’re officially a grown up — getting married, picking out a pet together, buying a car or a house, paying bills, replacing a roof, that kid stuff, having another life you love in your hands … He helped us grow up. I hope he liked growing up with us.
That dog. That good dog.
Sweet Boy
I’ll never forget you, Joe-Boy. Especially since I have a feeling our dark blue couches will never free some of the fur you shed. I remember when that drove me nuts. Now, it brings me to tears.
I’ll be thankful every day of my life for you.
Pretty Boy
Are You Zhazha? 
Say what?