The toy poodle came from a puppy mill. His name was Licorice at the time, and he was used as a stud to make more poodles. When the breeder was done with him, she took the little black pup to be euthanized at a Houston animal shelter when he was only four years old. Fortunately, a wonderful foster mom from Forgotten Friends swooped in to take the poor guy back to Austin with her. (She also renamed him Dexter.) The foster mom posted his picture online, and one day while I was surfing the dog version of a dating site, I came across this tiny poodle in need of a family.

We weren’t sure we were ready for a new dog. Our previous one had died just a few months before, but we had to admit there was a hole in our life without a furry friend following us around, so we brought Dexter into our home.

The first time we put him in our backyard, he took high goose-steps like a fuzzy little soldier. We realized he'd been kept in a cage his entire life and wasn’t too familiar with grass.

Dexter was terrified of us at first. One day we opened the front door, and he escaped. We chased him by foot and by car, but he was so scared, he just kept running. He had no idea who we were and couldn't get away fast enough. He crossed over busy South 1st Street near Oltorf, and that was the last we saw of him. Three long days later, we received a call from a stranger saying they had cornered him in an alley and grabbed him. We were overjoyed.

We took him on a long walk to take down the lost dog signs we’d put up throughout the neighborhood. At one corner the folks at a bus stop saw what was going on and gave us a cheer and a round of applause. We weren’t the only ones happy Dexter had made it home.

Back at the house, Dexter slowly began to trust us and come to terms with his new surroundings. He followed me around like a one-poodle parade, and while it took him a little longer to warm up to my husband, he eventually did. We were becoming a family.

I tried to be a good mom, but one day I completely blew it. I had let him outside before a big storm and proceeded to forget he was out there. The storm beat down for several minutes before I realized what I’d done. I brought him in, soaking wet. He was permanently scarred and now he cowers right by my side whenever he hears thunder. The guilt I felt has never gone away. Fortunately, Dexter suffered from Stockholm syndrome and quickly went back to loving his less-than-perfect mom unconditionally.

Today we can’t imagine life without Dexter. At twelve, he’s grown gray, and his goose-step is more of a duck waddle these days, but he’s every bit as loving and never stops making us laugh. Every moment with him is precious. Thank God for Stockholm syndrome.