By: Connor Lenahan
Five years ago today I finally got to hold Candy Bob in my lap for the first time. This lasted for about five seconds before he wriggled free of my grasp and began to explore my house. It’s an understatement to say he likes to do his own thing. He really isn’t a dog for fetch or swimming. He’s really into napping, resting, eating, relaxing, and sleeping.
In other words, he’s my soulmate.
I don’t mean too much offense to my family, but Candy Bob is always the thing I am most sad to leave behind when I leave home for Boston. People have thumbs and drive cars. Candy Bob only moves if you offer him a snack – a Lenahan trait through and through – and is legally unable to operate a motor vehicle, so the odds of him popping up at Warren Towers is relatively slim. He is always elated to see me home. Apparently he spent one of the first nights after I left for school sleeping on my bed. He’s my buddy, he’s my puppy, and I love him.
What will never cease to amaze me is his incredible intellect despite being a dog. He immediately understood how to behave around my wheelchair when we got him. He knows not to jump on me when I’m standing. When I was in bed with my broken leg last year he would even avoid walking by my shin. He knew I had an injury and in his own way tried to make me feel better.
He succeeded. He’s an adorable, lovable, goofy, ball of fluff that I love with my heart. I don’t know how I ever lived without him. All I know is I miss my puppy. I miss my friend.
Connor Lenahan (@ConnorLenahan) is a freshman at Boston University, majoring in journalism. He can be contacted at email@example.com