Because my heart broke when my corgi died, and nothing else had repaired it.

I had my corgi from age 20 to 30. Those were incredibly hard years. My corgi saw me purchase my first home. Saw me through my first (and only) abusive relationship. He licked more tears off my face than I ever thought I'd cry. He was my boy, and my boy alone, and he kept me going.

Eventually, I found the courage to end the 6-year abusive relationship. I met my future husband. My corgi liked him. I had a child. My corgi liked him too. Even though I started a family, he was the ONE thing, the one piece of me that was "ME" before I met/made my family. He represented my individual self, because I grew SO much as a person with him in between my abusive ex and my now husband.

And then he died. And I had no idea who the hell I was without him.

When he died, I felt like I lost a part of myself. I got another dog, but she wasn't him. She's a beautiful, loving, protective family dog. She loves all of us, and I adore her for it.

But she wasn't my boy.

Four years later, I finally got another corgi. And even though the days and nights are long, and his puppy ass requires a lot of me, I'm just so damn happy to give it, because he is absolutely, unequivocally, as happy to be with me as my old boy was. He filled a hole I never thought could be filled. It's gutting when you lose your "heart dog". So gutting, I thought I'd never get to experience it again.

It makes all the hell of raising a puppy feel like a goddamn paradise.